


The Golden Light or The Dark Abyss?

by LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Everybody Lives, F/M, He's torn between what is right and what is being asked of him, Love, Redemption, Sexual Content, Sorrow, What-If, like major angst, poor man!, the ghosts are speaking, yay!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 52,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife/pseuds/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife
Summary: Anatoly Dyatlov is torn. He's being pulled in two directions at once. What should he do? Whose voice should he listen to? Which path should he choose? The light? Or the dark?What if Anatoly Dyatlov's ambition was tempered by something...or someone...?What if he'd done some research...?What if that meeting in Bryukhanov's office with Nikolai Fomin had gone differently…?What if reactor No. 4 never exploded…?-I blame the plot bunnies - they made me do it!Based upon the 2019 'Chernobyl' HBO series and the character therein of Anatoly Dyatlov, played by the most glorious and beautiful Paul Ritter. This is a most humble attempt at a redemption/un-doing of the meanie evil one-dimensional, mustache twirling, spinney chair sitting villain that HBO turned him into!Please heed warnings and tags and notes etc before reading.-Alright Bambinos, please read and enjoy!Kudos and Comments always greatly appreciated.
Relationships: Anatoly Dyatlov/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 5
Collections: The Dyat Love Collection!





	1. The Light or The Dark?

**Author's Note:**

> This is continuation of my other fic 'The Golden Light'. The first chapter is just a repeat of that with a few additions...
> 
> This is a 'What if...?' fic. An AU from the reality. A 'What could have happened' journey down the 'trousers of time' and off into L-space 'Ook Ook!'
> 
> I have no idea how many chapters this will be, as the outline is very fluid and those darn plot bunnies love to bounce off in various odd directions, so please bear with me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Golden Light or The Blackest Darkness? What will he choose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for the imagery in this chapter is from a beautiful piece of artwork by NatashaRedFox. Thank you!

The golden light is coming from behind. It encircled him and whispered gently to him, asking for its warm enveloping embrace to be returned. He could feel it heating his back, warming him. He closed his eyes and let it comfort him. The light urged him to turn around. Begged for him to come and look, come and see. To turn away from the blackest, dingiest of darknesses that was threatening to pull him in, to pull him down. Was he brave enough to comply to the light's wishes? Sould he just turn around? Could he grasp the light with both hands and drag himself up and away from the gloomy pit he was heading towards?

His haunted eyes betrayed how torn he was inside. An inner voice whispered to him. It sneered at him, laughed at him, a teeth baring smile that held none of the radiance of the golden light. _No, don't look. It's pointless. You're not strong enough. You were never strong enough!_ Another voice was battling that first one. Pleading with him, just as the golden glow did _Turn around! Redeem yourself! You are stronger than you know!_

_What should I do?_ He's unsure where these voices have come from. One of the voices sounds suspiciously like his dead son, the second, calmer voice. The first sounded like his father. _But that can't be. Surely? It's all just a symptom of the huge stress I'm under. Isn't it?_ He shook his head, trying to dislodge the sounds in there. Not wanting to do battle with them as well as with himself. 

The smoke from the end of his cigarette spiraled upwards, it curled around him and ascended towards the ceiling. He took a long draw and let out a deep breath. Sending more smoke on its way, floating higher. He observed it as it joined the rest, mingling with it, then it vanished into nothingness. Vanishing like his chance of promotion if he chose the light, chose what was right and correct. He'd desperately wanted that promotion. The chance at being in charge and the thought of earning more money to make her more comfortable. To find a larger apartment for her. She deserved better than anything that he could provide. _She deserves better than you_ the first voice laughed. _No! She loves you for who you are, the only thing she desires from you is your love!_ the second voice insisted. He would certainly get his desired promotion if he rejected the light. But if he chose the darkness... Well... He dare not think about the other consequences of that choice.

He'd studied the subject extensively and had worked within the field for a good many years now. _Hell, I'm probably the most qualified man here!_ But what he'd found out from an old colleague, who was now in Moscow, well it chilled his blood to the core. It made all his hoarded knowledge pointless. As worthless and ineffectual as the smoke that floated in his office. He'd taken note of previous inklings of whispers of goings on that may or may not have happened. But what these papers told him, well this was bigger. Oh he'd heard things, seen half redacted reports from something that happened before. But nothing tangible. Nothing he could grasp onto and shove under the higher ups noses to make them see, to make them stop pushing and pushing at him.

This new information was data from the actual designers. A precious original, and several redacted papers. From these, he was able to piece together the shocking truth of what he'd been working with all these years. If it was true, then what they were planning on doing in a few month's time could lead to something beyond even the worst of his most terrible nightmares.

What he had just read, it meant that what the designers outlined there and what the manuals stated were at complete odds with each other. The most chilling implication was in the design of the control rods. How had anyone not noticed this before? He can't have been the only one, surely? He laughed. _Idiot!_ he chided himself. Of course someone had read it, the reductions he had to read around attested to that. The original paper had been read, noted, and someone had deliberately chosen to hide it. They'd chosen the dark. Now it was his turn. His turn to choose which path to tread. His turn to choose who to save: his career or... God! The other shouldn't even bear thinking about once, let alone even warranting any second thoughts.

He took a deep breath. Then read the papers again, just to make sure what was there was true and that he wasn't having some delusional vision. He placed the papers down on his desk, fisting his hands tightly to stop them from shaking.

He squeezed his eyes closed tightly, not wanting to let the tears escape. He swore to himself, long nasty, heartfelt, violent words, as he stubbed his cigarette out. Squashing it down, pushing it down with all the vehemence he felt towards the world. Towards the injustice of it all. No one else here seemed to be bothered about things like this. Having a conscience wasn't required if you wanted to climb high up the party ladder it seemed. Just a good pair of solid boots to trample on everyone else and a strong stomach to endure all the filth they'd need to swallow as they ascended upwards. _It's simple. Just hold your nose as you climb over those damn fools! Once you reach the top, you won't care!_ The more vicious of the voices sneered at him.

_Why should I have to choose like this?_ he thought. _You know why. You can see the truth!_ the gentle voice told him. The voice that sounded like his dead son. _The love you have inside. It's everything you need._

He shook his head, wanting the voices to go, to leave him alone, just as his wife did shortly after his poor son's death and her breakdown. _You were soft then, just like you are now!_ the first voice accused him.

He placed his elbows on his desk and held his head between his hands, hanging his head downwards. His breathing became jagged, hitched. His tears fell on his desk. Making fat splatting sounds on the shiny wood. As his tears plummeted, they glittered and sparkled in the golden light, just like the most precious of jewels.

There was a knock on his door. He didn't bother to look up.

"Fuck off!" he hissed, his words loaded with venom. _Why can't everyone just leave me be for one fucking minute!_

The knocking resumed, louder this time. 

"Didn't you hear me! _Fuck off!_ " he spat.

"I won't! I'm not leaving here until you let me in!" the door handle was rattled.

He'd locked the door after he'd stormed in from a meeting with Bryukhanov and Fomin earlier. He'd slammed the door, causing dust to fall from the frame. He'd kicked it for good measure before throwing himself into his chair. He'd not moved from it since then, two hours previously.

"You will open this door right now Anatoly Stepanovich Dyatlov or I'll... I'll keep knocking and knocking just to piss you off even more! I'll knock on the door to the tune of one of those western punk songs that you detest so much! Or... Or I'll just knock randomly to aggravate you into trying to guess the tune when it isn't anything at all!" the door handle rattled again and the knocking resumed.

"Leave me be! I don't want to see you or anyone!" he shouted, gripping his head tightly. _You don't mean that!_ the gentler of the voices said to him. _Yes you do! Get rid of the interfering bitch!_ the harsher voice said. _No! No! That's not true!_ he thought, pushing the harsh voice away, sending it far, far down. Stamping on it angrily. He stood up, knocking his chair over in his haste. _Wait! Please don't leave me, my Roza!_

"Anatoly! What's going on in there? What was that crashing?" the door handle was rattled again and the knocking resumed, faster this time. "Let me in! Let me in! _Please!_ " he could hear loud sobs coming from the other side of the door. _What have I done?_ he rushed over to the door, opening it. He caught her as she fell inside, re-locking the door behind her.

"Anatoly!" she looked up at him. Noting his puffy, red eyes, the tear tracks down his cheeks, his soggy mustache.

"Oh!" She lifted a hand up, placing it on his cheek.

He choked a sob and pulled her in, clutching at her, burying his face into her hair as his body shook and the tears fell unhindered. They fell into a muddled heap on the floor. She held his head to her breast, cradling him, rocking him, petting his head and rubbing his back until his sobs finally subsidised.

"Tell me love, tell me what's upset you," she whispered to him.

He lifted his head and looked up at her, _my beautiful rose_. He sucked in a deep breath. The golden evening light from the window was behind her. The light around her head shone like a bright, golden halo. Her hair was transformed into all the colours of the sun, from bright gold to deep red and every imaginable shade in between. She dazzled him, blinded him. Took his breath away. He lifted a shaky hand up and placed it on her cheek. His hand was illuminated, glowing in the golden light.

He knew what needed doing now. There was no choice any more. _You knew all along_ the gentle voice told him. _You always do. Sometimes you just need a little help to look. To see how beautiful everything can be, here in the light._

"Come," he said. His tears stilled, his face transformed, his mouth turned upwards, transfixing her with a glowing, radiant smile. _Come!_ the gentle voice called to him.

"Come," he repeated to her as he stood and held a hand out to help her up. He led her to the chair behind his desk. He sat and held his arms open for her. Settling into her usual place, perched sideways on his lap, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on him, breathing a sigh out into his shoulder. She moved a hand, placing it delicately on his cheek, giving comfort to both him and her at the same time. She shifted her head to face him. She smiled and waited.

He looked down at his beautiful lover and paused. The light was still shining in through his window. The golden glow bathed them both in its love now. He looked around nervously, unsure if he should burden her with his knowledge. _Tell her_ the gentle voice spoke to him. _Tell her everything and lighten the weight of your burden._ He took a deep, calming breath.

"There's something I've found out. Something bad," he told her, "Something terrible..." he whispered.

"Tell me," she said.

"I've taken on a job without a full understanding of all the details of it," he paused and wiped a sweaty palm on his trouser leg. "As the manager, it's my duty, to myself and those under me, to understand everything. As a manager, I'm responsible for everything that happens and for everyone below me," he explained.

"That's why I'm so hard on them, why I demand perfection at all times!" he looked at her and she nodded.

"But this... this information I've been sent... It means all I've taught is useless! All I've learned is useless! It's all fucking useless!" he shouted and slammed a fist down on his desk.

"Anatoly?" she took his clenched fist and surrounded it with her small hand. Rubbing her thumb over his knuckles until his fingers unclenched. She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed each knuckle in turn.

He sighed, closing his eyes at her touch. Each of her kisses washed his anger further away, they pushed the ever threatening darkness back down again. _Keep going_ the delicate voice told him. He opened his eyes again and continued.

"Keep going, my love," she said, placing one last kiss to the palm of his, now relaxed, hand.

"There's defects - in the reactor - which mean that some actions may not do what they are supposed to do. I need to re-learn everything from scratch," he looked up at her, checking to see if she understood. She nodded.

"Also... There's a test that's been needing to be done, that if everything went to plan, it shouldn't cause a problem. But, I can't say for sure now. I've no way of knowing, without digging around some more, if anything we do that's out of the norm, won't blow the whole town to kingdom come!" he looked up at her as she hissed in a breath.

"There are the instructions in my operating documents on the one hand and the statement of the reactor designer on the other... The stark reality is that the two don't agree..." he grabbed the papers and shook them, as if in shaking them he was shaking the high up idiots who hid this them from him!

"Let's go home. I need to hide these papers and think," he turned his watery eyes towards her, "I need your help. To go through my options. To decide what to do. I can't let this information stay hidden," he stared out the window as the low evening light filtering into his office. "I just can't!" 

The golden light shone on the papers he clasped in his fist, making them glow as if they were aflame.


	2. To Stay or To Go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What options does he have? There aren't many…

They returned back to their apartment and began to discuss what options were available to them. There are a few, but frankly, most weren't worth even considering, seriously or otherwise…

They talked long into the night, discussing and arguing this way and that. She frantically scribbled down notes while he paced and shouted. His hands and arms waved wildly around him, his emotions swung around as ferociously as his arms. Switching between outpourings of passion, hope, disbelief and rage.

The option of cowardly running as far away from this town as they could had been vehemently ruled out by himself. He'd shaken his head and refused, pronouncing that it was his absolute duty to stay. They'd both decided that they'd stay here and figure this bloody mess out together. Well... she'd decided and he'd reluctantly agreed. 

"You should leave, get as far from any of these death traps as you can," his eyes glittered with tears as he turned to her, "I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you!"

"You think I could bear the same? For something terrible to happen to you, my beautiful man? My love? My lover? You think I'd want to leave you here alone, to whatever fate befalls you? You think I'd let you go through this all by yourself?" she laughed and shook her head. "Do I still have to remind you of how much I adore you? How much I care for you?" her voice dropped to a whisper and she reached out to swipe an escaped tear from his cheek. "How much I love you?"

"I... I'm sorry... I'm just not..." he sighed and turned away from her, showing her his back, swiping roughly at his face. "I'm not very good at all this... Not like you are..." his hands dropped down and his head drooped. His shoulders shook as he tried to desperately silence his sobbing. "I'm scared..." His voice issued forth, barely above a whisper. Finally, he had admitted out loud what had been gnawing at his insides like a scabrous rat since he first opened the parcel sent from Moscow. 

She walked towards him, to where he stood, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. He froze and his sobs escaped as he felt her compassionate touch. The ceiling light above them flickered and dimmed, casting him into shadow.

"I'm not good enough for you... I'll never be good enough for you..." his fists clenched and he shook his head, gritting his teeth as he spoke. The darkness was calling to him again, pulling him down, grabbing at his legs and arms, threatening to drown him. The abhorrent voice leered at him _You're a fool for thinking anyone could love you! Love?? It's not got you where you are now, Deputy Engineer for Operations at Chernobyl! It'll not carry you upwards. It's only abused you! Forget about it, you'll only get hurt again or make idiotic mistakes!_ He hated that awful voice. It grated and ground, and pulled at his insecurities, picking and nibbling at the scabs of his half hidden emotions. Making the wounds of past hurts ooze and bleed, suffocating his newly made happiness.

The ceiling light above him flickered again, this time changing from it's usual bright white, to a light that had a more yellowish hue.

"Anatoly...?" his name, so softly spoken, a gentle summers breeze brushing against his soul. So delicate, so warm. "Anatoly..." the way she spoke his name was like a blanket being draped around his shoulders, wrapping him up, showing him what true love really was. _Love isn't hurt. Love is comfort, love is unconditional warmth and affection. It's not something to push away, to steel and harden your heart against. It's something to open your arms to. Let love build an armour around you! Let love protect you!_ He sobbed again at the tender voice, at its gentle chiding, reminding him of how much he loved his beautiful rose. Of how much she loved him. The delicate blanket of her voice and the loving voice of his dead son combined to smother the blackness, to stifle it and send it fleeing away. 

"Anatoly...?" she walked around him to stand in front of him. His eyes were scrunched up, tightly closed, his hands were clenched, knuckles white. She leaned up and placed a kiss on first one tear stained cheek, then the other. She placed her hands over his tightened fists. _Look into the light_ the voice urged him again.

"Look at me, love," her soothing voice begged him.

His eyes slowly peeled open and he looked down at her. Her beautiful face gazed up at him, smiling gently, offering him everything he could ever want. He choked back a sob and stretched his taut fists open, turning his hands around so that hers were now wrapped tightly in his.

"You idiot man! I'm not leaving! I'm not going anywhere! Not without you," she laughed, causing him to squint his eyes at her, which only made her laugh more. "You silly, ridiculous man! Don't you understand yet?" she shook her head in exasperation and pulled him closer, lifting their joined hands up so that they were sandwiched between their close bodies. "I love you, and care for you so much..." she spoke. "I'm not going anywhere. We do this together. Or not at all. Yes?" she said, brooking no questions, even if they were asked.

He nodded. _There's no arguing with her_ he thought.

She pulled him down, onto the sofa. He sighed into her touch as she held his head to her breast and stroked him, running her fingers through his hair, pulling all sorts of soft sighs from him. Her other hand was held between his. He played with her fingers, every so often bringing one up to his mouth to place gentle kisses there.

"So, love," he sighed, "what are our options?" he stated, breaking the silence, even though he didn't really want to. He'd have preferred to be coddled by her here, for the rest of eternity, if he had any choice in anything right now.

She reached over, pulling her hand from his as she picked up her discarded notepad. She giggled as her action also pulled a protest from him.

"Well... first on the list is to just ignore this new information," she said as she continued to run her fingers through this hair, running her fingernails along his scalp. He sighed into her touch. "Anatoly...?" 

"Oh...? What...? Er..." His befuddled brain finally caught up with her question... "No! No! Not an option!" he lifted himself from her, fiercely shaking his head, dislodging her hand from him. "Next option?" he asked as he settled back down, nuzzling into her bosom and placing her idle hand back onto his head. He peered up at her, gazing at her through his long eyelashes, his eyes pleading with her to continue her ministrations. She chuckled and threaded her fingers back into his hair.

"To put off and delay?" she replied.

"Hmmm... Possibly... This tactic could be used to give us time to think, to plan?" he let slip a moan as she rubbed circles on the side of his temple. "Mmm... Next one...?"

"To go to Bryukhanov?"

"Mmmm... just there, love," he moved her fingers back to where they were previously, on the side of his head. "Yes... that's it..."

"Bryukhanov, love?" she asked her distracted lover again.

"Oh... Yes... Bryukhanov! He looks to me in the meetings and not Fomin. I could use this to find out if he knows anything, to worm my way between the two of them. Get him on our side! Next one, love," he sighed as she rubbed his temple, just between his eyebrows. Just where his frown lived. Although recently, before these papers showed up, it had often wandered from its home.

"To go higher up the party chain, to confront them directly?" she answered.

"Hmmph... This is the scariest of options, a last resort, but still an option I guess...?" he said.

"Maybe..." Her voice trailed off as she frowned. She didn't like this option. People had disappeared for less... 

"Roza...?" He lifted his head up again, sitting himself up next to her. His heart filled with concern at seeing her frown. He raised a hand to her cheek, pulling her attention back to him.

"This is really the last, last option. Only to be used if all else fails. It's not like they would even deign to listen to me anyway," he shrugged. "I'm just a small bug to be crushed under their heels." This time, it was him that frowned. "If they did hear me, well... You'd more than likely never see me again. But at least I'd tried..."

She sucked in a breath. "No love, don't think on that," she shook her head. "They won't take you from me, not without a fight! I won't allow it!" Her voice was low and full of anger. The she-wolf defending her mate. The lioness defending her pride. They both looked up as the ceiling light flickered again, changing from white to yellow and back again several times. Finally settling on the golden, yellow hue.

_Now do you see how well you're protected and loved?_ the gentle voice whispered to him. _You will not be facing any of this alone. You will both be well guarded._

He sucked in a breath as he looked up at the light. 

"Love...? Are you ok...?" She touched his cheek, bringing his attention back from the ceiling to her again.

"What...? Yes, love... Er... Any more options left?" he asked as he nuzzled his cheek against her hand.

"Last one, my darling..." she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper as she set the notepad down and brought her other hand up to cup his other cheek. "To leak the information." She watched as his eyes closed and his face relaxed into a beautiful smile.

"You spoil me so much my lovely rose..." he sighed into her touch. "Ah... well, the more people who know, the less this information can be ignored, and the safer we will be. But who to tell without compromising our safety, and for maximum effect needs to be researched carefully, yes?" 

"Yes, love," she acknowledged.

She moved one hand, the one he wasn't holding against his cheek, and resumed running her fingers through his hair again. She smiled as his eyes fell closed again.

"Mmmm... I could get used to this... Mmmm" he purred.

"Used to what, love?" she whispered. 

"You... I could happily get used to you... And me... Being together... Properly..." He looked up at her, stilling her with his piercing gaze. Holding her hands in his. 

"Anatoly... What... What are you asking...?"

The ceiling light flickered again, the white light returning, then changing back to a golden glow. _You will be stronger together._ His eyes opened, they flicked up towards the light, then back to his lover again.

"I... Er... I want us to be a proper couple... You know... I don't want us to hide what we have from anyone. No more lurking around. No more keeping secrets." 

"Yes... Oh yes!" she exclaimed.

Her simple answer was all he needed. He leaned forwards and claimed her lips with his.

-

They collapsed into bed together. Making sweet love to forget everything, to fix everything. The certainty of their love was a balm to all the ills the world was throwing at them right now. They fell asleep cuddled up together, sweaty bodies satiated, agitated minds calmed. They had become so intertwined and tangled around each other that they had a hard time telling where the one ended and the other began.


	3. Oblivion or Realisation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He gets a chance to put off the test without letting slip his knowledge. Needing to sabotage the timescale to buy some time.
> 
> This is where things start to diverge from the show...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borrows heavily from the show - episode 5 (Vichnaya Pamyat).

His chance to implement 'plan A' came one morning, a week later.

He's sat in Bryukhanov's office, that man himself being absent. Fomin is sat next to him, greedily eyeing the large desk that is lurking there before them both.

Dyatlov takes a long draw on his cigarette and stares at the end of it, watching the smoke curl and twine it's way upwards. He's not talking to the other man. He doesn't trust him as far as he can throw him, which isn't very far admittedly. He also doesn't trust that he'll keep his speech neutral around him either. So, he just sits silently and waits.

Fomin coughed, then spoke.

"I hear they might promote Bryukhanov. This little problem we have with the safety test... if it's completed successfully..."

_Little problem? Oh, if only you knew!_ He keeps quiet, stills his temper, goes back to concentrating on the smoke peeling up from the end of his cigarette.

The ceiling lights in Bryukhanov's office flicker. One of the strip lights goes out. Dyatlov glanced upwards, taking note of how Fomin is plunged into shadow, but he himself is still lit. Fomin is completely unaware of anything other than his ambition. He's certainly oblivious to being surrounded by the darkness that had once plagued Dyatlov, but has now found another, more willing victim to latch onto. Dyatlov can almost hear the gears in Fomin's mind grind and whir as they run at full tilt, trying to figure out how he can somehow use this information to his own advantage.

"...yes I think promotion's very likely," the annoying man continued. "Who knows? Maybe Moscow? Naturally they'll put me in charge once he's gone, and then I'll need someone to take my old job. I could pick Sitnikov..."

Dyatlov looked back down at Fomin, and eyed him sideways. "I would like to be considered." He needed to keep Fomin sweet and himself beyond suspicion, for the time being anyway.

"We'll keep that in mind..." Fomin smiled happily back at him.

_Bloody fucker and his power games!_ Dyatlov swore to himself. _Look at how pleased he is! Offering me the carrot, then snatching it away again. Taking absolute delight in waving the offer of promotion under my nose, just to see if I'll beg!_

Bryukhanov finally rushed in, slamming the door and plonking himself down in the chair behind his over large desk. 

"Victor Petrovich, preparations for the test have gone smoothly," Fomin offered his boss what Dyatlov thought was an embarrassingly saccharine smile.

_How would you know, you're never fucking in the damn control room!?_ Dyatlov thought.

"Comrade Dyatlov's been working per my instructions and reactor four output has been reduced to 1600 megawatts."

_Your instructions? No, your vague ramblings and MY written instructions!_ Dyatlov thought.

"With your approval, we're ready to continue lowering power to..."

"We have to wait," Bryukhanov cut Fomin off mid sentence. Dyatlov had to bite the side of his mouth to hide his snigger at Fomin's open mouth in response to Bryukhanov cutting him down like that.

"Is... Uh..." Fomin answered.

Dyatlov kept silent, keeping his face neutral, watching the interaction between the two and taking keen note of what passed between them. Fomin was cowed by Bryukhanov. The more senior man knew how to keep him firmly in his place. _Good!_ Dyatlov thought.

"Are you going to ask me if there is a problem, Nikolai? You can't read a fucking face? Three years I've tried to finish this test! Three years!" he paused to light a cigarette. "I've just had a call from the grid controller in Kyiv," he took a long draw on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out towards Fomin. "He says we can't lower power any further. Not for another ten hours at the very least."

_This could be my opening..._ Dyatlov thought. "A grid controller?" he asked.

"It's not the grid controller's decision, Dyatlov. It's the end of the month. All the productivity quotas. Everyone's working overtime, and factories need power, someone's pushing down from above, not that we'll ever know who," he paused to take another drag on his cigarette. "So... Do we have to scrap it or what?" He looked to Dyatlov, but Fomin replied.

"No, I don't think so. If we need to wait ten hours, we wait," Fomin stated, smiling his usual weasely smile.

Bryukhanov's eyes flicked from Dyatlov to Fomin then back to Dyatlov again.

"Running half power for that long? Is it not going to cause stability issues? I don't want to have to make that call upwards, explaining how they aren't getting the power they need..."

"No, I should think..." Fomin started

"I'm not asking you!" Bryukhanov cut him off, and his eyes stayed fixed on Dyatlov.

_This is my opening, my chance. Don't fuck it up!_ Dyatlov chided himself.

"Yes," he answered. "It's won't be stable at that rate for that length of time. It's not safe, as Comrade Fomin pointed out in the comprehensive instructions he gave me to follow," he hadn't and they weren't, but he couldn't risk antagonising the other man. Not yet anyway. "We need to carefully raise power back to it's normal level and wait for the next window. Maybe next month according to previous attempts...?" he said, looking at Bryukhanov. Dyatlov then turned towards Fomin and smiled. "I'll personally supervise this, so you don't have to waste your time with this kind of insignificant stuff. If that is alright with you Comrade Fomin of course?" 

Fomin nodded happily as Dyatlov knew he would at the chance of escaping any dirty work and more especially, avoiding any potential blame.

"Good. Get it done Dyatlov. I'm not waiting around. Let me know when everything's back to normal. We reconvene at the end of the week to re-plan this." Bryukhanov stood and strode out. 

Dyatlov got up quickly and followed after him. Leaving a confused Fomin sat there wondering what had just happened.

-

Dyatlov got changed and went off to the control room of reactor 4. He did as he said he would, stayed until everything was as it should be. _Well... As far as anything could be in this damnable place!_ He thought.

-

He de-camped to his office later that afternoon. He'd already been there a few hours, going over data from the computer readouts from control room 4. He'd checked them three times for any anomalies, none showed up so far. _Thank God!_ he thought.

A knock on the door. He smiled to himself as he knew it was her, his beautiful lover. He'd learnt to recognise the knock that announced her arrival.

"Come in, love!" he announced loudly.

"How did you know it was me? It could have been anyone! One of your bosses!" she laughed as she entered and walked around his desk to perch on the edge of it next to him. She placed a kiss on his upturned, offered cheek and stroked his head, smoothing his hair back down. He sighed, closing his eyes at her gentle touch. 

"Well, you have a distinctive knock. Fomin's is greasy, in as far as a knock can be, and Bryukhanov just doesn't bother knocking!" Dyatlov chuckled.

He placed the computer printouts down on his desk and pulled her into his lap, eliciting a small squeak from her. Holding her tightly, he leaned in and kissed her thoroughly, feeling all the tension from the day abandon him as she returned his deep kiss in kind, feeling her twine her fingers in the hair at his nape as she did so. 

She finally pulled away, watching his happy face. His beautiful smile, his hooded, darkened eyes that watched her gleefully. His hands and arms holding her firmly on his lap. She sighed and leant her head on his shoulder. 

"So... How did the meeting go?"

"All is well. The test is delayed," he kissed her forehead and rubbed circles on her thigh with one of his hands. "I'll tell you all about it on our walk back."

-

As he lay in bed with her that night, he looked over at her. She was fast asleep, head rested into his shoulder, leg thrown over his, one arm tucked between them, the other placed on his chest, over his heart. Her breath was slow and steady, her lips curled up in a satisfied smile as she slept. He pulled her closer to him, she mumbled incoherently and placed a kiss on his lips, giggling as he brushed her cheek with his mustache. She'd said it was tickly, so he'd made it his mission to remind her at all times just how vellicating it was, especially on a certain part of her anatomy. He smiled a toothsome grin at that thought, as he reached up with his tongue, wiping it across the bottom of the bristles of his wicked mustache. He could still taste her there, a remnant of their earlier love making. He closed his eyes, thinking how lucky he was. 

This is what he was willingly risking everything for. This feeling of her freely giving herself up to him, and of him joyfully releasing himself to her ministrations. Of her sweet kisses, her loving touches, her heated stares - all reserved just for him. Oh joyous love! How glorious it was to be adored and cared for by such a beautiful creature! He was always astounded by the absolute beauty of her, naked and sweaty as they were joined together. Either below him, her limbs deliciously wrapped around him. Or as he gazed upwards as she ground herself into him, greedily taking her pleasure and giving him the same back.

He would gladly give everything he had and scrabble around for more to cling onto that feeling. He would fight all oncomers for her. He would keep the darkness at bay for her, for this feeling. The awareness that he felt safe in his emotions, knowing that his heart was secure in her keeping. The bedside lamp flickered and changed to a tawny glow. _Now you understand!_ the delighted voice spoke to him. _Now you are free!_ He heard the voice tinkle joyously - the delighted, carefree laugh of a young child. 

-

He carried on trying his best to put off the test without letting slip his knowledge. Trying to sabotage the timescale to buy him some time.

At the moment, it's working. They've got another month of delay to add to the previous one agreed at the meeting at the end of the week. Another two months of careful watching and fervent planning.


	4. To Show or to Hide?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Should he share with Bryukhanov the information that he has found?

He's reached a fork in the path. There's a decision to be made. He's delayed for as long as he can without attracting attention. But Bryukhanov is starting to become aggrieved with him. He's wanting to push ahead now, instead of agreeing with Dyatlov's delays as before. Fomin, on the other hand, doesn't care. He's happily going along with everything, because Dyatlov has taken over all of his responsibilities. He's happy just sitting back, waiting for a ripe promotion to plop straight into his lap.

He's been carefully watching the interactions between the three of them. Especially those between Fomin and Bryukhanov, those he takes note of in much greater detail. He's still certain he can't trust Fomin as far as he can spit, that much hasn't changed. But Bryukhanov...? He's always been a good man, as far as Dyatlov is concerned. It was he, after all, that had ordered the planting of the plethora of roses in Pryp'yat'. So, in a way, it was he that brought him and his beautiful Roza together. Bryukhanov always asked his opinion on matters he considered himself a better judge on. He wasn't shy about deferring to Dyatlov's knowledge, even though he himself was the boss.

But it was Bryukhanov's links upwards, his links to the party, that worried him. If word of what Dyatlov knew travelled up, well... He may as well just hand himself over to the KGB or put the bullet in his own head now and be done with it!

So... A decision needs to be made.

-

Dyatlov is standing outside Bryukhanov's office. His hand is raised, poised, ready to knock. But he doesn't. Instead he lowers it and closes his eyes. He's certain what he's about to do is the right course of action. But he still pauses, anxious. He's still scared of the outcome. He thinks of his beautiful rose and what would become of her if he does nothing. The light in the corridor flickers, changing from white to saffron. _If you trust in yourself, all will be as it should be_ the gentle voice tells him. Steeling himself with a few violently muttered swear words, he raised his hand again. _Fuck it_ he thinks to himself, then knocks. He hears a shouted "Enter!" and goes in.

"Ah! Comrade Dyatlov!" Bryukhanov smiles and motions to a chair in front of him. He notes the frown on Dyatlov's face and leans forward. "Is there something amiss? Has Fomin been an arsehole again?"

"Er... No... Um... There's something you need to know..." he fidgets with the envelope in front of him, held tightly in his hands. Within it are photocopies of the original damning papers that he'd been sent. 

"Well, what is it Comrade Dyatlov?" 

Bryukhanov's voice pulls Dyatlov's head up, away from gazing at the envelope in his hands. He stands and places it on the desk, in front of his boss.

"I was sent these. I thought you would like to also know about them," he stays standing, waiting for Bryukhanov's dismissal. But it doesn't come. He motions for Dyatlov to sit down again, which he does, slowly watching as his boss pulls the wretched texts from the envelope. Dyatlov keeps his eyes on Bryukhanov's face as he reads. He watches his bosses face turn from curiosity, to fear, then finally settle on anger. He finally looks up at Dyatlov, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep, long draw in it.

"So... This is why you were so keen to put off and delay the test?" he blows the smoke out sideways and taps the paperwork.

"Yes," he admitted. "Apparently there was an... incident... at the Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant in 1983 that highlighted a serious design flaw. This flaw was not passed on to anyone else in charge of an RBMK reactor."

"Fucking shitting arseholes in Moscow have _yet_ _again_ stitched us up good and proper! First by sending us shit equipment. _And now this_?" Bryukhanov slammed his fist down on the papers.

"Can it be rectified?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Dyatlov shook his head. "Certainly not with the equipment we have at the moment. Maybe though, with the right machinery and parts...? But if we request that, it might alert the authorities to the fact that we know about something they don't want us to know about."

"Fuck!" 

"It's safe as it is though?" Bryukhanov leaned forward.

"Oh, yes, as long as nothing untoward happens, like the testing, all should be safe enough," Dyatlov admitted, "...probably," he added.

Bryukhanov laughed. "So... we've got four ticking time bombs fucking sat here right next to us," he shook his head. "You haven't told Fomin?" he squinted his eyes at Dyatlov.

"Er, no. You're the only one who knows. Well... Apart from..." he looked away and down, cursing himself for letting slip the last part.

"Apart from...?"

"My partner," he admitted, looking down and fidgeting with his hands, "my soon to be wife, if she'll have me of course. I've not exactly asked her yet..." he rubbed the back of his neck at his second slipped admission in as many minutes. "I couldn't hide it, not from her, she caught me... Off guard." He looked back up at his boss, "I trust her implicitly with this information! She will not blab or gossip!"

"Ha! You old dog Dyatlov!" Bryukhanov laughed. "I trust you, and if you trust her... Then..." he waved his hands. He smiled at Dyatlov and stubbed out his cigarette. 

"Make a list Comrade Dyatlov," Bryukhanov fixed Dyatlov with a piercing gaze.

"A... A list?" he asked.

"Yes. Of the machinery, parts, labour etc that will be needed to fix this," he wagged a pointed finger at Dyatlov, "but keep this to yourself. We need to plan this very carefully. If word gets out about what we are up to..." he moved his finger to point at the side of his head. 

"By the end of the week?" Dyatlov asked.

Bryukhanov nodded.

"Oh, if you want to go higher up the chain, you have my blessing. I won't stop you, but I'll not jeopardise my own career. Do you understand Comrade Dyatlov?" 

"Yes, Comrade Bryukhanov,"

  
"I'll protect you from Fomin as best as I can though," he said. "And you might want this," he opened a locked desk drawer and fiddled with a compartment inside. Pulling out some more paperwork and hanging it to Dyatlov. "It's a copy, so you can keep it."

Dyatlov skimmed it, seeing that it was a copy of a letter from the Alexandrov Institute saying that they'd repeatedly tried to contact the Academy of Sciences to warn them that the reactor was not ready for commercial operation. He folded it and slipped it into the inside pocket of he jacket.

"Thank you again, Comrade Bryukhanov."

Dyatlov stood and nodded a thank you. He left and leaned on the wall outside Bryukhanov's office. He took several deep breaths to calm himself before heading off down the corridor to his own sanctum. Once inside, he reached a shaky hand into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of vodka and a glass. He poured himself a full glass, downed it and poured and downed another, just to make sure.

Then he got to work.

-

She found him, cloistered away in his office. He didn't look up as she entered, instead he kept his gaze fixed on whatever it was that he was writing. 

"Hello, love," she said, watching as his pen scratched and scritched its way across the paper. She tip-toed over to him, perching on the edge of his desk next to where he fervently worked. 

"Hello my love," he said, placing a hand on her thigh where she sat on his left. His eyes never left his work. "I just need to finish this, then we can go," he turned the page of paper over and continued his writing. His hand squeezed her leg and his thumb rubbed circles there, where it sat on her thigh.

"No rush Anatoly. Please, carry on, ignore me," she said, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of his head and smoothing a stand of his hair back behind his ear.

He chuckled. Drawing a line under his last sentence and gathering the ream of paper up, shuffling them into alignment, then stuffing them, along with his pen into his briefcase.

"Now you know that I can never ignore you," he looked up at her. "You really should know that by now!" he grinned up at her. His eyes twinkling with mischief. "Come here, I've had a very stressful day!" he shook his head, feigning sadness, "I may need a kiss to cheer me up." he peeked upwards, watching her, smiling at her.

"Just one kiss?" she asked, running her fingers along his mouth.

"Well...," he caught her finger in his lips and ran his tongue along it, "maybe one kiss... for starters... then some more kissing... then..." he shrugged as he grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. The hand still on her thigh squeezed again.

"Let's go home though first, love. There's something I need to tell you. And there's also something else I need to ask you," he smiled up at her.


	5. To Sleep or To Wake?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They discuss their altered options late into the night...
> 
> A continuation of the previous chapter and a fluffy domestic interlude away from the seriousness of their problems.

"Fixing the reactors here, can it really be done?" she asked after listening to how his day went. She leaned over and gently took the empty glass out of his drooping hand, placing it on the table in front of the sofa that they were sharing. 

He frowned at her. He had really wanted another vodka, but she was probably right, as always. His brain wasn't befuddled with alcohol yet, but it was nicely warm. Just as his body was, with her cuddled up next to him. His frown dissolved, turning into a smile as she took his now empty hand and played with his long fingers. He relaxed, leaning back, gladly letting her clever hands comfort him as they sat there in their living room, bathed in the xanthous light of the lamp by her side.

"Um... Probably...? Possibly...?" he said, his frown revealing his uncertainty. "I'm looking into what can be done here, to protect us. I said I'd make a list by the end of the week for Bryukhanov to look over."

"Is going higher up not an option any more?" she asked.

"No. Bryukhanov will support me while we keep this here, at Pryp'yat'. He won't though, if I take this higher. It's just too damn dangerous for us both," he shook his head, not needing to elaborate on the consequences. Not wanting to either.

"So, you trust him then?" she asked, her brows furrowed and her hands stilled in their gentle ministrations upon him.

"Yes, I do." He took one of her hands and kissed her palm. "He's a party member, yes. But he's been messed about enough by the lies of Moscow himself to know what the truth is. To know what and who to believe," he placed a hand on her face, running a thumb across her brow, smoothing the creases away. He watched her eyes close as she leant into his touch. 

"Bryukhanov has family here. He'd not want to risk their lives. Same as me. With you."

She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

"How about something else? Leaking the information instead?" she whispered as she took the hand she was nestling her cheek against and placed a delicate kiss upon its palm. She turned his hand around and placed more kisses on each of his knuckles.

"Possibly..." he answered, pausing to yawn widely. "Again, we'd need to be careful..." he frowned, "but it's an option, I guess," he shrugged. His eyes closed at her relaxing touch. The mix of the stressful day, the vodka and her gentling actions were sending him to sleep. He leant his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa. He stretched his legs out in front of him, causing his knees to crack.

"Come on you tired, old man. Time for bed!" she giggled and stood up, grabbing both of his hands and tugging on him. 

"But I'm so comfortable here!" he sighed, "just a few minutes more?" He tried pulling her back towards him, but she resisted, easily escaping his lax grip.

"Well... _I'm_ off to bed now... Don't lie there too long or you'll get a cricked neck." She walked off to the doorway, pausing and turning to see him still lying there on the sofa. She shook her head and went to get herself ready for bed, brushing her teeth, changing into one of his old t-shirts. She went to check on him after doing so, peering through the living room doorway at him. He was still in the same position she left him in. But he was now snoring loudly. She tutted, then padded off to the bedroom, fetching the small cushion from the chair in there, then returned to the living room doorway. She tested it's weight... Not too heavy, and he wasn't too far away. _Perfect!_

She cackled as he shot up, sitting back upright again, swearing indignantly at his forced awakening, after the cushion had bounced off his head and onto the floor.

His eyes narrowed as he heard her laughter. His eyes narrowed further as he glared at the cushion on the floor.

" _You!!!_ "

"Yes, me! You could stay there, risking a stiff neck. Or..." she shrugged. "I'll just be lying in bed, naked, if you care to join me..." she turned and left.

He watched as she laughed, turned and walked away. Her swaying hips and bottom framed by the doorway, disappeared away down the corridor to their bedroom. 

He stood, grabbed the wretched cushion and ran after her.

"I'll show you exactly which bit of me is going to get stiff! And it's not going to be my bloody neck!"

-

"You said that you had something to ask me, earlier, in your office?" she said as she nestled her head into his shoulder and twirled his chest hair around her fingers.

"Oh... Yes... Er...," he rubbed the side of his neck with his free hand. "Well... I was thinking... Well, wondering really... If you'd... You know... I mean... Seeing as we're happy together..."

"Yes, love...?"

He sighed deeply, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then turned to face her.

"I think we should get married..." 

He looked at her. Watching... Waiting for a reaction... Any reaction...

She blinked... Then screamed.

He flinched.

She giggled.

"Anatoly Stepanovich Dyatlov. You can probably leave 'Being Romantic' off of your CV," she leant up on her elbow, then proceeded to drop kisses all over his face, laughing as she did so.

"Crazy woman!" he laughed along with her, trying to still her as she peppered this face with soft, butterfly kisses, but this only caused her to drop a kiss on his eye.

He growled, grabbing her and kissed her to stop her silliness.

"So... Is that a 'yes' then?" he chuckled.

"To getting married?" 

He nodded.

"Crazy man!" she smacked his chest. "Yes," she placed a kiss on his left nipple. "Yes," she moved and kissed his right one, giving it a nip with her teeth, pulling a growl from him. She moved to staddle him, placing her palms onto his chest, propping herself up. She ground herself against him. "Yes Anatoly Stepanovich Dyatlov. I'll gladly marry you," she bent her arms, lowering herself down, "on one condition though..." she said, placing a kiss on his lips as she moved her hips, rubbing against him.

"What...?" he gripped her waist. Trying to get her to still. Trying to pin her. To stop her from eluding him. "What... What do you want?" he panted out, bucking his hips up, moaning.

She giggled and leant down further, placing a kiss on his mouth. "I want another orgasm tonight..." she ground her hips again, "on second thoughts, make that two. At least! Oh and no tickling," she ground her hips into him again. "You be careful where you put that bloody mustache of yours!"

"I know _exactly_ where I'm going to put this mustache!" he growled. He moved his leg, flipping them over so that she was now underneath him. He kissed her deeply, bucking his hips into her. This time, it was her moaning and begging, and him laughing. He moved so that he kissed down her neck, rubbing her skin with his bristles. He moved downwards, kissing her and grazing his mustache on her as he went, laughing as she squealed and tried to push him away. He kissed all the way down her until he reached his prize. He licked and sucked at her until she peaked, then he rubbed his mustache on her sensitive nub, pulling a screech from her. 

"Wicked, evil man!" she gasped.

He took the opportunity, while she descended from her high, to reach over and take a condom from the bedside cabinet.

"Wicked am I? Is that so?" he asked as he settled back between her thighs and kissed his way back up her, moving his nose to rub his bristly mustache up her body, enduring her squeaks and swats again, until his face was level with hers once more. He kissed her deeply, watching as her eyes closed, feeling her arms and legs cage him, trap him in their warm grip. A prison that he'd happily never want to escape from. He dove forwards, plunging deeply inside her, releasing a deep moan as he did so. He kissed her again and reached down, above where they were joined and used his clever fingers to pull another peak from her. His followed shortly after, as he felt her clench around him.

-

He sighed deeply, he'd have his work cut out next week, getting that list ready for Bryukhanov. But that was a worry for tomorrow. Tonight, he was content, his lady love was asleep, curled up against and on him, their limbs tangled around each other. He reached over and pushed a lock of her hair away from her face, and placed a kiss on the end of her nose. _My beautiful rose has agreed to be mine! Properly mine!_ He swiped at the tears that pooled in his eyes. _I need to work carefully, I need to get this task right! I need to protect her!_ he thought. 

The street light outside their bedroom flickered, changing from white, to an amber glow. _Have faith in your abilities, they will protect not only her, but yourself and thousands of others!_ the gentle voice told him. _Now rest, sleep!_ Anatoly Dyatlov, never a knowingly stupid man, knew exactly when to do as he was told. He yawned, and wiped his watery eyes dry. He glanced once more at his beautiful lover, her face the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anatoly Dyatlov says practice safe sex. You don't want an explosion to leave graphite where it's not supposed to be. (Not that you'd see it, because it's not there.)


	6. Secrets or Lies?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As his boss worked, Dyatlov's mind wandered. Thinking on the next part of his plan...

Bryukhanov had his head down, taking deep pulls on his cigarette as he read the list that Anatoly Dyatlov had just handed him.

He reached the end, stubbed his cigarette out and took up a pen. He paused, pen poised in his raised hand and glanced up at Dyatlov.

"This will stay between you and me," he says. Not a question, but a statement.

Dyatlov nodded.

Bryukhanov bent his head back down and began re-reading, this time making notes on the paper as he went.

As his boss worked, Dyatlov's mind wandered. Thinking on the next part of his plan. He needed to get in touch with his old colleague at the Moscow university. But he needed to word things carefully. He needed to think of some code, something only they two could read one way, and that anyone intercepting the correspondence - as he was certain it would be - would read another way.

He needed their help in how best to leak the information to the other RBMK reactor sites. It would be a risky move, but a necessary one.

He needed to see what Bryukhanov made of his list first. Making sure that the site here was safe was his number one priority for now. He wasn't fussed for his own sake, but he just couldn't contemplate anything happening to his beautiful lover. His fists clenched at the thought of the slightest of harms coming to her.

Bryukhanov finished writing and folded the paperwork over, locking it away in the hidden compartment of his desk. It being almost two pm, which was time for their weekly meeting with Deputy Engineer Fomin.

Right on time there was a knock on the door.

"Enter!" shouted Bryukhanov.

"Good afternoon Comrade Bryukhanov," Fomin nodded at his boss. He paused and looked over at Dyatlov.

"You're here early Comrade Dyatlov," he frowned down at him.

"Shut up Fomin," Bryukhanov said, "sit down, I've got far too much on my plate for childish arguments. Do you have the reports I asked for? The personnel reports?" Bryukhanov asked.

"Oh yes! Here you go, Comrade Bryukhanov!" he handed over a file to his boss. "Um... Is there any more news on the safety test? On when it will be repeated?" Fomin asked.

Bryukhanov kept him waiting, taking his time looking at the paperwork he'd just been handed. He recognised Dyatlov's wording in the report. He finally closed the report and looked up at Fomin.

"Not yet Comrade Fomin. You'll be the first to know as soon as I do."

Fomin couldn't help but smirk over at Dyatlov.

Dyatlov ignored him, choosing to turn away and stare at the end of his cigarette instead.

"Any other problems I should know about?"

"No Comrade Bryukhanov. All is running smoothly. Like clockwork!"

Dyatlov rolled his eyes.

"Good!" Bryukhanov stood, marching out of his office, Dyatlov following him. Fomin was left behind, salivating over Bryukhanov's desk. 

"I'll come and find you later," Bryukhanov said to Dyatlov, then strode off.

"Are you in trouble Comrade Dyatlov?" Fomin had sidled over to him. "I couldn't help but overhear Comrade Bryukhanov saying he'd come and find you. I do hope it's nothing serious!" he smiled widely and walked away. Dyatlov watched as the strip lights above him switched off as he walked under them, then back on again as he passed by, the darkness following where he walked.

-

Back in his office, Anatoly Dyatlov sighed. He'd spent the last few hours in the control rooms, using the cover of writing a report, but actually using his time to ask questions and check measurements. The gathered computer readouts were spread out in front of him, covering his desk in front. _I need a bigger desk, or more hands!_ he thought. He was in the middle of a complicated calculation when there was a knock at the door. He quickly scribbled the answer down and shouted out "Enter!"

"Oh, sorry... I can come back later if you're busy...?"

"No, no! It's perfect timing actually!" he beckoned her over and held his pad and pencil out to her. "Here, please come sit! You write, while I think!" he smiled up at his beautiful love.

She took the offered tools from him, placing them on the desk. Then, cupping his face, she placed a lingering, loving kiss on his lips as she passed him to sit in the chair behind his desk.

"Keep kissing me like that, and I'll not be _able_ to think...! Well... Maybe... But I'll be thinking of _other things_... Not work," he laughed and placed a kiss on her forehead while she settled into his chair.

She reached up and brushed her fingers slowly down his cheek, running them along his lips.

"It's your own fault, you shouldn't have such kissable lips," she smiled up at him.

"Wicked tormentor!" he bit her fingertip lightly. 

She giggled, and ran her finger along the bottom of his bristly mustache.

"You can talk! This horrible tickly thing!" she shook her head.

"You love it really," he chuckled as she snorted. He reached down to place a gentle kiss on her lips, then he pulled back and sighed. "You'll have to wait till we get home to continue tormenting me. I've got all this," he waved his hands, indicating all the paperwork on his desk, "to go through. Plus Bryukhanov is coming round shortly... Don't want the big boss walking in on us doing... _things_..."

"Ready when you are!" she laughed and picked up the discarded pencil and pad.

He stood next to her, leaning over his desk. He rummaged through the printouts, shuffling them, and pulling several over towards him. He looked over at her, her pencil was poised over the pad, ready to go.

"Can you note everything down, as I say it?" he asked.

"Yes, Anatoly. Ready when you are my love!" she beamed up at him.

He started talking, speaking his thoughts and numbers from the printouts, rummaging through them as he spoke, his brain running along ahead of him. Her pencil scratched as he spoke, his words all noted down on her notepad. As he spoke, he reached to touch her hand, or to place a kiss on the top of her head, or her upheld cheek. He whirled around this desk, spreading and moving through the paperwork. 

She marveled at his keen mind in action. She'd not witnessed him like this, deep in his work, before. It amazed her, _he was truly a sight to behold!_ she thought.

They were interrupted by his office door opening.

"Comrade Dyatlov, Miss Lebed. The paperwork I promised you," Bryukhanov held out the list with his notes from earlier.

"Thank you Comrade Bryukhanov," Dyatlov took a quick glance at the paper, but was pulled up as his boss spoke.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"Readouts from the control rooms, all four of them. I'm just checking that we've no _other_ surprises waiting for us..."

"Good. Carry on. Let me know if you find anything. Oh... and be careful. I passed Fomin just now, he was lurking around outside," he frowned. "Make sure that everything is either locked away at night, or not here."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you. I will, and I'll let you know about this and your notes as soon as possible."

Bryukhanov nodded and left.

Dyatlov swore. 

"Anatoly?" 

"Bloody Fomin. If he's sniffing around then I'll have to be extra careful!" he frowned. "Come on, I'm almost finished, then we can go. I'm not leaving these," he picked up Bryukhanov's notes, "here!" he locked them in his briefcase. "The rest of this is just standard printouts, stuff I'd be looking at routinely anyway." 

"Leave it all on your desk, as a decoy maybe?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Yes! Come on, let's get this done then get out of here. I've had enough of all these bloody secrets and lies for today!" he bent back over the paperwork and started dictating again. "The only secrets I want to see tonight are your womanly ones..." he leered up at her.

"As long as you're not _lying_ to me about keeping that blasted tickly mustache at bay!" she squinted her eyes at him.

"Ah... Now that is most _definitely_ a secret," he smiled, "kept between me and my mustache!" he laughed as he easily ducked a scrunched up ball of paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to include the 'shut up Fomin' bit in here... I mean no disrespect to the real life Fomin (or any of the real people herein), but it just makes me laugh so much 🤭. It's all fanfiction based off a drama, based off reality... Not meant in any way shape or form to be a real life fic!


	7. Truths or Misunderstandings?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of previous chapter... An interlude as they walk home... Some truths are uncovered and some misunderstandings are overturned.

Even though the only extra item in it was the paper with Bryukhanov's notes, his briefcase felt as heavy as if he was carrying a whole damn control rod inside!

He tugged at her hand on their walk home, causing her to stop next to him. He'd paused at one of the many flower beds that lined their route home.

"It was him, Bryukhanov, that planted them. He wanted the people here to be happy, a rose for every person," he pointed at the roses that crowded the flower bed in front of them. "So, we've him to thank, really, for bringing us together." He turned back to face her, his love, his beautiful rose.

" _Oh!_ I didn't know that!" she smiled over at him. "I've always been wary of him. What with him being the big boss and everything!" she said quietly. "I've been guilty of misunderstanding his true character all this time...?" she frowned. "Just like everyone else does with you?"

Anatoly chuckled. He handed her his briefcase and reached into his pocket, taking out the small pen knife he always kept there. He reached forward, searching... And found a perfect pink rose. He cut it free, trimmed the thorns off and presented it to his lady love, taking back his case.

"For you, my love, a beautiful rose for my beautiful Roza," he spoke quietly, looking away and down, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Oh!" she beamed up at him, accepting the beautiful flower with a large, delighted smile. She held it up to her nose, closing her eyes as she breathed in its heady scent. She peered up at him from under her eyelashes.

"Thank you Anatoly. You try to hide it, but you've a beautiful, romantic heart hidden under that tough, engineer exterior!" she took a step towards him, closing the distance between them, then reached up, placing a hand on his shoulder. She raised herself up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on one of his rosy cheeks. Then dropped her heels back down, moving her hand up to brush against his soft cheek, her eyes pulled at his gaze, causing his eyes to lock onto hers. She moved her fingers again, to brush them gently along his mustache, running her fingers through the hairs. She bit her bottom lip as she did so, dropping her gaze from his, to watch as her fingers ruffled the wicked hair over his lip. 

"I may even let you use your bristles on me tonight," she whispered, moving her gaze back up to his eyes, smirking up at him.

"I thought you hated my mustache?" he tilted his head to the side, frowning down at her.

"What? No! That's not true!" She shook her head, "I may _dislike_ it somewhat when you use it to tickle me after I've peaked and am a little sensitive, _down there_ ," she shook a finger at him. "But..." she leant in closer to him, "when you use your mouth on me, it feels really, _really_ good! It tickles me in a _very good_ _way!_ " she leaned in even closer to him, again placing her hand on his shoulder, reaching up, moving her lips to brush against his ear. "When you move your mouth, and that _wicked_ mustache in a _certain_ way, on a _certain_ place... It inflames me in a way I've _never_ felt before," she whispered to him.

He closed his eyes, imagining her spread open before him. He sucked a breath in and opened his eyes again as he felt her move away from him again. She stood in front of him, a beautiful vision smiling up at him. Her gaze trapped him, like a deer caught in the headlights of a juggernaut. He could see how dark her eyes were, they probably mirrored his. His blood ran hot at the thought of tormenting his tormentor with his bristly mustache. He was sure that the fire now blazing inside of him could power one of the blasted turbines in the power plant. She had heated him so much, with that truly delicious image she'd placed in his mind just now.

"You could have waited until we were home before mentioning something like that!" _She really is my tormentor!_ he added to himself, listening to her tinkling laughter. He surreptitiously tried to adjust his trousers, trying to use his briefcase as cover.

"Come on then," she reached over and grabbed his free hand away from behind his briefcase. He tried protesting, but she dragged him along the path towards their apartment. "The sooner we get moving, the quicker we will be back!"

"Wait!" he hissed. "I can't walk that fast... Not with... God! Slow down, woman!" he tugged back on her, pulling her back, trying to slow her fast pace. 

She stopped and peered at him, then looked over to their side, where the forrest ran along, parallel to their path. She smirked at him and again pulled at his hand. This time dragging him off the path and away into the cover of the trees.

"What are you up to now?" he frowned down at her as she maneuvered him so that his back was up against a tree, the both of them hidden from the view of anyone who happened to be strolling along the path behind him.

She took his briefcase from him, placing it gently on the ground next to them, knowing how precious its contents were. _Almost as precious as he is to me_ , she thought. Her rose was placed on top of his briefcase, the two items resembled how she wanted to have him later, back at their apartment. _After he's used his mouth and wicked mustache on me_ , she thought. She stood back up and leant into him, kissing him and reveling in his returned, deep, frenzied kiss. Their tongues danced, their breath sped, their moans loudly intensified. She felt his hands as they grabbed her waist, pulling her into him. His fingers dug into her sides as he ground against her, desperately trying to get some relief.

She pulled back, breaking their kiss.

"Roza..." he tried to pull her back, his eyes flashing, his hands on her waist tightened, trying to still her.

She reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling as he closed his eyes and leant into her touch.

"Trust me," she whispered to him, placing a soft kiss on his lips, then pulled away again.

He nodded and his hands released their tight grip on her. He held her gently now, licking his lips, waiting eagerly for what she'd do next.

Her hands moved away, unwrapping themselves from where they were, around his face and neck, moving to trail down his chest, going lower and lower still. She paused them at his waist. Looking up, waiting for his quick nod of permission.

He watched, his breath speeding, as she undid his belt and trousers.

She heard him suck in a breath as she freed him from the confines of his trousers. She ran her hands along him, closing one around him and moving her hand slowly up and down, watching his eyes close and his mouth drop open, listening to him as a moan escaped his beautiful, soft lips. She moved, dropping down to her knees in front of him. She felt his hands fall from her waist.

He placed his hands, instead, on her shoulders as she leant forward, using her mouth, lips and tongue to pull his peak from him. _God, she is so beautiful!_ he thought.

As he filled her mouth, he growled out her name in the way she loved, a deep and thoroughly masculine sound.

His hands unclenched from her shoulders and he petted her cheeks, urging her back up.

She stood, fixing his person, trousers and belt for him while his breathing subsided back to normality.

He held her face between his hands, surging forwards and kissed her deeply. Putting everything he felt for her right then into that kiss.

"God! I'm not sure if that's made things better or worse!" he chuckled. "You've sorted out one pressing issue, but now I just want to sleep!"

"Come on, old man, let's get back," she smiled. Pleased with herself at how happy and carefree he looked.

"Less of the old please!" he chuckled as he took her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss her knuckles, wiggling his top lip to rub his mustache on her hand. "I'll return the favour later," he smiled at her. Her infectious giggling pulled a laugh from himself. 

-

Later, as they were curled into each other, asleep, the telephone by the bed rang. He stirred, looking up at the clock. _Half past three in the morning? Must be something important... I'd best answer it then._ He sighed and stretched over to pick up the receiver.

"Yes?"

As he listened, his blood froze. Forcing him into sitting upright, ramrod straight. He mumbled an answer into the phone, replaced the receiver and sat, the darkness of the room surrounded him. He leant forward, placing his head in his hands. _You were too late!_ the wicked voice taunted him, cackled at him.

A gentle hand touched his arm. A gentle voice pulled him back from his dark thoughts. 

"Anatoly...?" she switched the bedside light on and propped herself up, half sitting, half leaning back on her elbow behind him, her face creased as she wondered on what the phone call was about.

He turned, taking her hand in his. He paused. She was bathed in the golden light coming from the bedside lamp that shone behind her. _Don't give up, all is not lost!_ the gentle voice pleaded with him. _Look! Look at what you have achieved! The fight is not over yet!_ His love was staring at him, her hair glowing brightly all around her beautiful face. Her face that was creased with concern for him. The same face that had held his gaze earlier that night when she had told him how much she loved him. The same face that had smiled so beautifully when he'd told her how much he loved her. He pulled her hand up, holding it close to his face, nestling his cheek against it.

She frowned, not liking how quiet he was. He had turned towards her and now held her hand against his cheek. It felt wet. She couldn't quite see him as the light was behind her and he was in her shadow.

"Anatoly...?" she asked again.

She moved her head, letting the light fall on him, revealing that the wetness she had felt was from the tears which were streaming down his face. His shoulders shook, the sounds of his sobs were terrible.

She bolted upright. Pulling herself over next to him, wrapping herself around him, holding him tight. He sobbed into her neck, burying his face into her, his hands scrabbled at her back, desperately trying to pull her tightly against him. 

"Tell me! Please Anatoly! What's happened?" she pleaded with him to tell her, to share his pain.

"I was too late! I took too long!" he cried out.

"What? To late for what? What's going on?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throws cliffhanger ending and runs away cackling...


	8. Despair or Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep despair about what could have been done differently is a cruel, crushing weight. But, if you open your heart, you can be comforted by the awakened knowledge that love is the key to everything. Which one will Anatoly Dyatlov choose? Despair or Love?

He fell into her embrace, curling in upon himself and curling himself around her, holding and being held. He sobbed into her shoulder, his tears were a warm rivulet running down her back, bathing her in his sorrow. He heard her question but didn't want to voice the answer. To voice it would acknowledge it, make it real. And then his failure would also be acknowledged. He shook his head, clinging to her, snuffling and burying himself in against her warm skin, not wanting to leave the safe nest of her. She pleaded with him again. He shook his head once more. He was scared, so very scared.

The bedroom light flickered behind him, it threw shadows around them both. Throwing them in and out of the darkness and the light. They were being circled by a rabid hound whose mangy pelt was pure midnight and a beautiful, sleek, golden puma. Each battling the other for the juicy prize that was his soul. The light and the dark growled at each other, baring their teeth, snapping their jaws. Each was undecided, unsure as to which one would win.

His deep despair and fear of failure forced him to choose. He hid in the darkness, running into it, gladly embracing it. _You should be scared!_ the wicked voice mocked him _I told you that you'd fail if you walked that weak path!_

"Please!" she pleaded with him again.

_Please look up, look into the light. There is nothing to fear, be strong! Please! You will not fail!_ the gentle voice pleaded. He shook his head again. _I've already failed. I took too long, I was too late... I can't drag her down with me! I can't!_ he thought sadly, squeezing his eyes tighter.

"Anatoly, _please!_ " she begged again. She huffed at his silence. "Well if you won't tell me, then I guess I'll just have to try and find out for myself...?" She pulled back from him, slowly extricating herself from him, sadly watching as his arms limply fell away from her as she moved. She went slowly, giving him every chance to grab her back, every chance for him to speak, to stop her. She sat back and watched him collapse in upon himself, curling up on his side, away from her. 

He felt her move, felt her pull away from him. She wanted to know what he'd been told, what Bryukhanov had told him had happened over the telephone, but he couldn't, he daren't. He let her go, dropping away from her warmth and lying back down on the bed, curled up on his side, showing her his back. He kept his eyes closed, listening to her as she move around the bedroom, opening draws and cupboards. Dressing. Leaving. He felt the bed dip behind him, and a burning hand was placed on his icy shoulder.

"Anatoly... I'm just going into the living room, to put the telly on. I'll just be next door... if you need me, if you want anything? Ok?"

He nodded softly, unable, unwilling to voice anything. He felt her move her warm hand away, felt her move her self away from him. He felt so cold. He wanted her to go, he wanted to wallow in the darkness by himself, but as soon as she left, he keenly felt her absence. His other half was torn from him. Shoved away by his own terrible grief. Now that she was gone, he found that he'd made a disastrous mistake. He wanted her back. He _needed_ her back. He swallowed a sob down. _Come back! Stay!_

"Try and get some sleep, it's Saturday, so you've no need to get up early for work," she said, leaning back down to place a gentle kiss upon his head. "Here, you're cold," she pulled the covers back up and around him, cocooning him in. She reached over him and switched the bedroom light off. Then she pulled back, standing up. 

He felt her move again, back towards him. His heart skipped a beat. _Was she staying?_ He felt her lips against his head, her kiss a beautiful brand upon his head. She tucked the sheets around him. He wished it was her arms wrapped around him instead of the cold blankets. She moved closer. _She was staying!_ She switched the light off. Then she was gone again. Leaving him in the dark silence. Leaving him alone. _This is what you wanted wasn't it?_ the voice asked. _No! I've changed my mind! It's not! Come back, love!_ The wicked voice cackled at him _It's too late, she's gone!_ He reached up and covered his ears, squeezing his eyes tight shut.

She paused in the bedroom doorway, turning back towards him. Her brows creased, wondering on what had caused his sadness. He'd admitted to her that before they met, he'd often suffered from low, dark moods, using the long walk to and from work, and jogs through the forrest to disperse them. But she'd not witnessed any as bad as this before, until now that is. She peered into the gloomy darkness of the bedroom, just making out his hunched up form as he lay in the bed. _Maybe I've been too much for him? Too clingy?_ she thought, sighing. _Maybe he needs some space? Some time apart...?_ Her breath hitched and she swallowed back threatening tears at that thought, then turned and left.

Once she'd gone, he took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes, moved his hands. The laughter had stopped. It was replaced by something else. A heavy burden. Sorrow and regret were two weights, two heavy punishments that weighed him down. They were ballast. Each cumbersome stone sat on one of his shoulders, crushing him, pushing him down and keeping him there, in the murky depths. He squeezed his eyes closed again, keeping them tightly shut. Desperately trying to force the tears that pooled there from spilling. _Come! Join me, let me take those weights from you! You know it makes sense. Remember what I told you? That you're not strong enough. You were never strong enough!_ He covered his ears again. _No! I won't, I can't. Please stop...!_ He shook his head, desperately trying to dislodge the eager temptations that were whispered to him.

He felt something on his cheek, something warm. He opened his eyes, peeling them open slowly, two small slits in his scrunched up face. The morning sunlight was peering in through the bedroom window, touching his face, stroking his cheek with its saffron fingers. _There is more at stake here than just yourself! If you don't feel strong enough, remember that you need not do this alone. Open your eyes and see._ He opened his eyes fully, blinking in the gentle dawn light. He moved his gaze to where the sunbeam pointed, the motes dancing and laughing in the stream of light. It pointed to his bedside table and what lay upon it. The beautiful blush pink rose he'd picked yesterday. The one he'd picked for his beautiful Roza. _Look! Do you not see?_ He sucked in a breath. He closed his eyes, wishing she would return. _She's gone, you don't need her!_ the dark voice growled. His eyes shot open again. _No!_ He pulled himself up, sitting up on the side of the bed, staring at the delicate flower and how it shone in the light.

He heard her footsteps as she padded back into the bedroom.

"Anatoly? Are you alright? I thought I heard you shouting...?"

"Roza..." _Come back, love! I'm sorry!_ He closed his eyes again, hanging his head, scared of what she would do.

She rushed around the bed, kneeling down in front of him, where he sat. She touched his cheek. It felt wet. "Please... What's wrong? Talk to me... Don't lock me out... Open your eyes, love." she leaned forwards, moving to kneel between his legs, wrapping her arms around him.

_Open your eyes, look! Look!_ the gentle voice begged him. He dropped his head down, hiding in the comfort of her shoulder, not wanting to face her, ashamed of his failure. Another weight added to his already crushed shoulders. He felt her lovely hands as they stroked his face. They calmed him, comforted him, gentled his soul, paused his sorrow. _Look! See!_ He lifted his head from her shoulder, but kept his face downturned, he shook his sorrowful head. His tears began falling again, dropping into her lap. Gathering there like tiny fallen apples. _See! Let love be your guide!_

He lifted his head up. He saw her. God, but she was so beautiful. _Look! See what love looks like!_ the quiet voice told him. He dropped his face again. He wasn't worthy. How could he be? How could she love him? He had failed. _No one can love a failure,_ the dark voice whispered into him ear.

"Anatoly... The news... I saw... It's terrible!" she touched his cheek. "Please... Talk to me..."

He slowly reached one of his hands up, resting it on her hand where it was placed upon his cheek.

"I failed," he whispered. 

"No. You didn't. You did your best. We all did." 

"I could have stopped it. If I hadn't been so damn cautious!" _You are such a failure!_ the evil voice cackled.

"No! It's not your fault. Please! You can't blame yourself."

He shook his head again. "I'm so sorry."

"No. There's need to apologise."

"No. I'm sorry for pushing you away."

"Oh, love..."

"Am I?" he asked.

"Are you...?" she didn't understand his meaning, her brows furrowed as she looked at him.

"Yes, are you...? Are you mine? Are you my love?"

She moved, still kneeling, but straightening her upper legs. She took his head between her hands, gently moving him so that his ear was against her, his head resting between her breasts.

"Can you hear that? My heartbeat?"

He nodded. _Listen! Hear what love sounds like!_ the gentle voice told him.

"It's there because of you. We are here because of you. Please don't say you failed. You may not have stopped what happened in Leningrad, but you prevented it happening here." 

"Listen again Anatoly. My heartbeat is beating for you. It's yours. Every beat is saying how much I love you. How much you mean to me. How I live and breathe you. It's not really my heart you're hearing. It's yours. My heart belongs to you."

_Reach up! Touch! See how soft and delicate love feels!_ the gentle voice pleaded with him.

She felt his hands land on her waist. Felt their gentle touch holding her, keeping her there. She felt her relief wash over her. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She reached down and kissed his head.

"I know you feel bad, you feel terrible, guilty. But please don't let the despair overtake you. Do you hear my heart, my love? You're not alone. You don't have to do anything alone any more."

_Breathe! Discover how delicately love is scented!_ He moved his head, nuzzling into her, breathing her essence in. 

He lifted his head. Turning his watery eyes upon her. Peering up into her downturned face. Watching her as she watched him. One of her tears fell, landing on his face. He tasted it's saltiness on his tongue. _Taste! Know the tang of her loving_ _tears! See how your love cries for you!_ the delicate voice begged him.

_Let love fill all your senses!_ it beseeched him. _Love is the key to all things!_ the voice sang joyously.

_I know now! I know for certain!_ he thought. _I can't let the dark despair devour me._ The scales fell from his eyes, clearing them. The chain wrapped around his heart crumbled away, freeing him to love and be loved. His soul spread it's gilded wings wide, it soured upwards, carrying him aloft, up to the highest heights. Love offered him it's gentle hand, it raised his hunched form up, freeing him. It carried his regret and sorrow for him, hefting them as if they were the lightest blocks of pumice, they weren't gone, just lightened, allowing him to move. His fear and shame though, they did fall away. The two spiralled downwards, crushing the darkness. Pinning it there. _There is no shame in failure!_ _I'm not afraid!_ He took her hand and placed it on his chest.

"I'm sorry if I scared you. I've not felt such overwhelming despair before. I was scared. Not just of what's happened. But also... of love. I kept a small part of my heart hidden away. Worried that I'd be hurt again..." he paused, trying to choose his words carefully. "But I know now. You've shown me that I don't have to be scared. Shown me I don't need to... No, I don't _want_ to hide any more, not when you love me so!" he shook his head. "I love you my beautiful rose, my heart..." he placed a hand on her smaller one, the one that rested on his chest, "...my heart is yours."

-

The news slowly filtered out. The news channels only reported what the state wanted them to report, of course. More lies. More secrets withheld.

He watched the news reports. His face was scrunched up in anger now. Angry at himself for ever believing any of it, but also angry at so many damned secrets and lies darkening the truth. 

  
He shook his head. "Leningrad. Two weeks ago!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pink roses symbolize gratitude, grace, joy, femininity and gentleness.


	9. Regrets or Realisations?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anatoly Dyatlov has some regrets. All of them, bar one, are overturned by one big, fat realisation!
> 
> There be smut here - Anatoly Blofeld/Earnst Stavros Dyatlov knows the correct way to stroke a pussy when it's sitting on his lap. 
> 
> So the rating for this fic has gone up accordingly.

Leningrad! Again! But much worse than last time. Much, much worse... _Did they never learn!?_ The details slowly filtered out. The news channel only reported what the state wanted them to report, of course. _More damn lies! More fucking secrets withheld!_ he thought as he huffed and shook his head at the television screen. _Fucking unbelievable!_

His fists clenched, his teeth ground against each other, causing his cheek to twitch and his brows drew together just thinking about how the state had made bloody fools of them all. _They still fucking are, if I'm any judge on the matter_ , he thought. All his hoarded learning, all his carefully sourced knowledge, it was all for naught! Every damn thing he'd taught about those reactors was wrong, incomplete, useless!

He had to change his thinking now. He couldn't use it as a soldier, or cage it as a worker, so, instead, he would work _with_ the atom, he would be it's ally now. He would join with it as a colleague to work against the evil corruption. Against the power they used to force people into doing nothing. The maths and the physics still held true, they always would. They may shift and shimmer as the interpretation of their laws changed. But they were still universal truths. Unlike the rest of it. Now he had the corrected information, he had the granite foundations on which to build his church. Instead of the shoddy, half-formed, crumbling sandstone he'd been given before by _them_.

He made a vow, there and then, that he'd try his damnedest to fix all this, he'd try as best as he could. _To hell with the fucking lot of them!_ He vowed that he would do his utmost to protect her. To protect his love! He'd build a magnificent garden for his beautiful rose to thrive in. A wondrous place for them both to grow old together.

-

But, one thing still niggled at him. Causing a slight but persistent annoyance, a discomfort, it was a fat, meaty grub gnawing at his anxiety.

Anatoly Dyatlov still clung tightly to his regret of not trying harder, earlier. He persisted in thinking that if he'd done something, _anything_ differently then the terrible disaster could have been avoided. He sat on the sofa, trying to watch the terrible pictures, but being unable, having to turn away and hide his face in his lover's neck so that he didn't have to see the horrendous disaster unfolding before his eyes. He may still have that regret, but thanks to her, his rose, he no longer believed that he was a failure. How could he be? When he'd prevented what had happened there from happening here. 

The thought of anything happening to his love, his beautiful lover, was beyond contemplation. He stood, switching the TV off, not wanting to watch the distressing images any longer. He then gladly returned into her warm, comforting embrace, sighing into her, closing his eyes as he breathed her in. _She loved him! She really loved him!_ It was a miracle beyond his astonished reckoning. _How could something so beautiful, love him so much? Him?_ He shook his head, laughing. Falling for her was the one thing that he _never_ regretted! 

"Anatoly, what's so funny?" she asked, one of her eyebrows raised at his chuckles.

"Oh nothing, love... I'm just enjoying my good fortune. My tremendous luck," he smiled at her.

"Fortune? Luck?" she asked, tilting her head at him.

"Yes! At finding you! At having your love!" he shook his head. "Sometimes I imagine I'm in some sort of dream. I mean, you could have anyone you want, but you stupidly pulled me into that damn cleaning cupboard," he chuckled at the remembrance of their first awkward kiss.

"Stupidly? No! _Cleverly!_ " she grinned at him, at his frown of confusion. "Oh, yes! I'd noticed you from afar long before that. I'd been watching you for a while before I plucked up the courage to make a plan to corner you in there!" 

"You had?"

"Oh, yes!" she laughed. "I'd been warned to steer clear of you, about your fearful temper, when I first started there. How you shouted at everyone all the time. I didn't believe any of this. I heard the others in the typing pool, how they would always plot and plan to disrupt your work, to get their revenge for your shouting at some of them. For getting them reprimanded. I thought that no one could just be _needlessly_ angry, that you had to have a reason. And I was right! You did! You'd shouted at them in the typing pool for disastrously messing up one of your important papers. Costing you a citation. So I watched, I learned, I studied you some more," she said, planting a kiss on his slack jawed, open mouth.

"I saw how you were with your juniors. Shouting at them admittedly, but the shouts were never random. They were asking for perfection, demanding obedience, yes?"

He nodded.

"But you didn't just shout. You encouraged, cajoled reasoning and understanding from them. I watched as you corrected some students. They'd been sat there all day in the canteen, since breakfast and all through lunch, arguing, trying to solve an equation. The one I watched your beautiful brain complete in mere minutes! I saw their faces change from puzzlement, into delight as you made them understand what had been perplexing them all that time. You didn't shout, and you told them to see you if they had further issues.You had them feeding out of your palm. They were yours, then. And I'm yours, now," she smiled at him. "It took me bloody ages to plan how to get you! I had to note your route, to catch you unawares. All to drag your gorgeous bottom into the anonymity of that cupboard!" She laughed as he shook his head.

"My... bottom...?"

"Oh, Yes! Your _gorgeous_ bottom!" she laughed a wicked laugh as his cheeks turned crimson.

"Oh..." he smiled. Making a mental note of her comment about his... _bottom_...! Something to be squirreled away for later. Something to use as ammunition to torment his tormentor.

"I'd admired and loved you for so long from afar! I desperately wanted to get to know you better, to tell you how wonderful you were, even if you didn't realise it!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I wanted to kiss you _so much!_ I wanted to be _yours!_ " she laughed.

"Yes! You are! You _are_ mine!" He grinned up at her. His love had clicked even more firmly into place with the truth of what she'd told him just now, at how she'd sought him out deliberately. How she'd planned to have him from the start. She was his! " _Mine!_ " he growled at her, showing her his teeth in a wicked grin.

"Anatoly...? What are you up to...?" she giggled, raising an eyebrow at him as he closed the distance between them, as he laughed and _grinned_ at her.

He pulled his love closer, breathing her in, reveling in her warmth, listening to her heart. Watching as she peeked up through her eyelashes at him as he grinned down at her. He thought that he was as content as he ever would be, here in her arms, wrapped up in her love.

He pulled her over and onto his lap, straddling him, he dropped his head down, burying his face into her neck again. This time he sought out her skin, not her lips. He kissed at her neck, sucking at her pulse point, smiling to himself as she tilted her head to the side to grant him easier access. He nipped and sucked at her skin, knowing that he'd leave a delightful mark of ownership there on her neck for everyone to see. So that everyone would know that she was his.

" _Mine!_ " he growled. _All mine!_ He delighted in the gasps and mewls he pulled from her as he kissed and nipped and _tickled_ his lips, teeth and mustache upwards, along her jawline. He stopped just short of her mouth. Pulling away to gaze up at her. He watched as she opened her eyes, her brows furrowed as she looked down at him. He smiled at her and reached first one hand, then the other hand up to cup her face. 

"So beautiful!" he whispered. "And all _mine!_ " he growled as he dove forwards to claim what was his. His hands held her on either side of her face. They moved her head sideways, moving her, aligning her so that their noses rubbed against each other and didn't clash as he ravaged her lips. His tongue played with hers in her mouth, then he let it chase him into his. Her moans urged him onwards, deepening the kiss further, titling his head this way then the other, pulling every sensation he could from her lips, her tongue, her mouth. His hands roved, travelling lower, moving down. Squeezing her breasts on their journey lower and lower still. His fingers delved into her knickers, moving them out of the way. He moved, flexing his digits in-between her folds. He growled again as he felt her wetness, felt how ready she was for him. _Mine! All mine!_ He plunged two fingers inside her, nipping her bottom lip as she moaned her pleasure and bucked against his hand, forcing his fingers deeper inside her. He curled them, seeking that special place that he annoyingly didn't always find, he worked her clitoris at the same time as he sought her other, secret place. He growled at her as his fingers worked her. Kissing her neck, rubbing his mustache along her in the way she loved, the way that she'd told him made her skin tingle. 

"Come for me, my love! Let me hear you moan my name as you peak! I want to feel you squeeze my fingers. Come my beautiful Roza. Come all over my hand! _You're mine!_ Your beautiful pussy is all mine and I want to feel you tighten around me, first my fingers, then my cock! Once my fingers have finished you, I'm going to fill you with my hard cock and make love to you properly. I want to feel you come again, I want to feel you tighten around me as I pump in and out of you," he nibbled at her ear as he breathed his wicked words to her. "Yes, _yes_ , that's it, come for me, love!" 

Her breathing sped up and he felt her tense, felt her collapse as she gasped his name. He felt her inner walls grip his fingers and flutter around them. _Mine!_ That was his cue. He pulled his fingers out from her, undid his flies and pulled her limp body up and against him. He lined himself up at her entrance and rocked his hips upwards, filling her completely with one thrust. He gripped her hips with his hands, holding her there as her hands fluttered around his face and shoulders. Her moans fed into his ears. The acute sensation of her femininity surrounding him, that hardened him even further. He captured her lips with his, swallowing her moans as he thrust in and out of her. _Mine!_ Thrusting roughly, making her jerk upwards, his hands on her hips keeping her firmly in place, his fingers dug into her sides, holding her tightly.

He stilled, breathing her in deeply as he removed one of his hands from where he gripped her side. He moved it between her legs, above where they where joined, to rub her there again. He teased her and twirled his fingers wickedly, making her moan and gasp and emit the most delicious noises he'd ever heard. 

"Mine!" he whispered in her ear as he nibbled her earlobe. " _Mine!_ " he growled as he felt her pulse around him. As she gasped his name in the breathy way he so dearly loved.

"Mine! _All mine!_ " he growled at her again as his hips pumped up, as his cock filled her and pulled out, only to fill her again. His thrusts grew more forceful as his peak neared. He wanted to fill her, to have her completely. With one final hard thrust, he roared her name. His fingers grasped even tighter into her sides as he held her still, held himself inside her, filling her up with himself, releasing himself inside her, losing himself there. He thrust against her. Small thrusts as he emptied himself deep within her. Growling as she squeezed her inner walls, milking him, pulling everything from him, taking everything that he gladly gave. His grip on her waist relaxed. His hands moved again, changing to their earlier positions on either side of her face. He kissed her. This time a slow, delicate, delicious kiss of love. _She is mine! Really mine! How beautiful she is! How lucky I am!_ he thought. _How could I ever think I'd failed when I have this, her, all to myself?_

"Anatoly! What's wrong?" she lifted a hand, wiping the fat tear that sat on his cheek. "Have I done something, said something?" her brows furrowed down at him, her face full of puzzlement.

"No love, no! Nothing is wrong! Happy tears. Tears of amazement!"

"Amazement?"

"Yes! That you're mine!"

"Of course I'm yours, you silly man! I was yours from the first time I saw your red, shouty face," she giggled at him. Placing a kiss in-between his furrowed brows.

"Oh... You don't regret being with someone with such a... Such a temper...?"

"What? No! I'm not just happy at _being_ with you. I'm ecstatic at _loving_ you and having that love returned, even if it took you a little longer to realise just how much I am yours. I've no regrets about this... about us. Do you?"

"No. But... I never felt I was good enough for you," he batted her protests away. "That's my only regret about us. At not realising sooner. That you're mine," he smiled up at her. An angry woodpecker had rooted out that particularly juicy grub of regret and had devoured it whole!

"Silly, angry, crazy, daft, insecure, shouty, beautiful man!" she laughed. "I've _always_ been yours!"

" _Mine!_ " he growled, as he pulled her towards him, claiming her lips as his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly! This man has been plaguing me _terribly_ these past few nights! His smut demons have been bouncing all over me! Not that I'd ever complain about _that_ of course! 😏
> 
> Oh and here's the ANGEREY woodpecker that ate that juicy regret grub: 
> 
> https://bewareofdragon.tumblr.com/post/640974458457391104/fat-mabari-setbabiesonfire-becausebirds


	10. Dream or Reality?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anatoly daydreams on what could be, but reality interrupts.
> 
> A fluff-filled, direct continuation from the last scene of the previous chapter.

" _Mine!_ " he growled, as he pulled her towards him, claiming her lips as his.

This time, there was no desperate urgency to his kiss. She was his, he knew this now. _She's mine. Just as I'm hers._ He closed his eyes, taking his time. Savouring the feel of her lips on his. Reveling in the taste of her tongue against his. The feel of her arms wrapped around him was bliss. He melted as she ran her fingers through the long hair that spilled over the back of his collar. The action of her fingers relaxed him, soothed all his demons away, there weren't many that remained now. She'd seen to that. She'd chased them away. His hands, still gripping her waist, slackened. He hoped that he'd not bruised her there. He felt himself soften, felt himself slipping slowly from inside her. From where he belonged. That's when he realised what he'd done.

He broke their kiss and altered his hold on her. He moved his hands from their places on either side of her waist. Instead, he wrapped them around her, pulling her close into him. Her arms wound tightly around his back, holding his head as he snuggled his face into her neck.

She heard him sigh deeply.

"Anatoly?" she asked.

"I'm sorry." 

"Sorry? For _that!_ Why would you apologise for that absolutely _magnificent_ bout of love-making!!?" she pulled back, forcing him to look up. She frowned down at him.

"What? No!" he chuckled. "Definitely not _that!_ No, I'm sorry... for not using a condom... I... I just wanted you so _badly_... I wanted you so very much... God, woman!" he shook his head. "I... You had me... _Inflamed!_ I just couldn't hold back... But... I'm sorry for being so... Selfish..."

"Oh...!" she smiled at him. "It's ok... No harm done," she leant down and kissed him. Feeling his tension dissipate as her lips slowly danced with his. 

He pulled away, gently brushing her hair away from her sweaty face. Watching her as she closed her eyes at his delicate touch. Her skin was blushed, her chest was still crimson from her peak, no her _peaks_ , he corrected himself. He gazed at her, he proudly preened to himself as he remembered how loudly she'd gasped his name after he made her come the first time. How he'd found her secret, hidden spot. He raised his eyes, noting the blotchy bruise on her neck. He grinned back up at her, catching her eyes as they opened. He gingerly touched her neck where he'd sucked that mark on her neck. _Mine!_

His smile widened as he remembered all of the things they'd just done. He'd remember this morning for a good long time. He laughed, shaking his head at his amazing good fortune.

She smiled at the joyous noise of his carefree laughter. _He looked so happy. So free!_ She blinked a few times to clear her eyes of the tears that blurred her vision. 

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Not anything funny anyway. I'm just happy, my beautiful rose. I've not been this happy in a good long while. Not since..." he trailed off, leaving the last part unspoken. _The birth of my son._ He caught her gaze again. "You really don't mind? About... You know...? Me um... Rushing... And not..."

"Anatoly Stepanovich Dyatlov. You are a very, very _wicked_ man. I love you so very much and can easily forgive a lapse like that. Especially when it's because you've been, not selfish, but distracted maybe? I absolutely love when you're so _forceful_ like that, when you take charge," she purred, and leaned forward, moving, placing her lips next to his ear. "You should talk dirty to me like that more often..." she felt his hands renew their tight grip on her waist. "It made me so very, _very_ wet! As I'm _sure_ you noticed..." she pulled back and kissed him on the tip of his nose as he grinned up at her.

"And... I'm due any day now anyway... So you don't need to worry about _that_ either," she shrugged.

"Oh! God...! Sorry! I'd not even thought...!"

She dropped a small kiss onto his creased forehead and eased herself off from his lap, letting him finally fall fully from inside her. He frowned, peering at her as she half ran, half wobbled off to the bathroom to clean herself up.

He wiped himself on his underpants, then went to the bedroom to change. He put new pants on and sat on the edge of the bed. He stared out of the window and closed his eyes, tilting his head, letting the golden sunlight warm his face.

_She was there, standing in front of him, his beautiful rose. She had her hands placed on the small of her back, her arms, bent at her elbows, winged out from her sides. She was standing with her back to him. He called her name and she moved her head to face him. As she turned, he saw that her belly was round with child. His child! She smiled and moved towards him. The awkward, beautiful waddle of a woman who was due any day now. She stopped in front of him, placing a hand on his cheek. She kissed him. A kiss full of love, full of hope for their future. She reached down and took his hand, placing it on her tummy. On their child. He felt the baby kick and he gazed up at her, beaming widely in absolute wonder. In absolute awe at her magnificence._

"Anatoly?" 

Her voice and kiss on his cheek drew him from his vision.

"Nice daydream?" she leant into him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his warm shoulder.

"Yes. Beautiful. Just like you," he placed a hand on her thigh, squeezing as he kissed the top of her head. "Let's go for a walk, it's a lovely sunny day," he changed the subject quickly, not wanting to discuss his beautiful, impossible dream any further.

-

Their random meanderings around the surrounds of their apartment had taken them past several of Bryukhanov's rose bushes. A happy Anatoly Dyatlov had gifted her a whole bunch of them. All different colours, each one perfect, just like her.

A pink rose to say thank you to her. Thank you for loving him.

A white rose to symbolise his promise to her, his pledge that they'd wed. Soon.

A light purple, lavender coloured rose to show how she'd fell for him at the first sight of his face.

"Of my... How did you put it? My 'red, shouty face' wasn't it?" he teased.

She'd giggled at him. "Yes! My very own angry woodpecker!"

He'd laughed and kissed her.

A yellow rose for rememberance. They shook their heads at the horrendous thought of all those poor people in Leningrad. Needlessly sacrificed on the alter of 'the party'.

An orange rose for passion. She had picked this one, telling him how brightly she burned for him, how her need for him was something she'd never felt before.

A red one for their love. He'd shyly, reverently presented it to her, telling her how much he loved her. He'd leant in close to her ear and breathed to her how much he desired her, brushing his mustache along the shell of her ear as he whispered lewd words describing what he'd do to her on their return to their apartment. She'd gasped and tightened her grip on his arm. 

-

They had paused in their wanderings. They sat on a bench, leaning into each other, their heads touching, hands held. The light-hearted sound of children's tinkling laughter travelled over to them from where they were at play in the park in front of where they sat. She noted that he smiled at them, as he always did. He always loved watching children playing. Although today, she noted that the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Would you like more?" 

His head whipped towards her.

"What?" _Had she seen my thoughts?_

"Children?"

"I... I don't know," he frowned. "I'm too old anyway... And I wouldn't want to risk losing you!" he shook his head vehemently.

"I'm only 30, and you're not _that_ old..." she nudged him, smiling at his eye roll. She took his hands in hers, catching his eyes. "You wouldn't be replacing him you know... Your son. It'd be a new child. A new start," she spoke softly, rubbing gentle circles on his hands with her thumbs.

"No. I... I don't know... Maybe? I'd need to think... We'd need to agree," he shook his head and stood. "Let's carry on walking, and talk some more," he smiled down at her and held his hand out. She smiled up at him and placed her hand in his. 

-

They could hear the phone ringing as they approached their apartment door. He rushed through and grabbed the receiver.

"Hello? Yes. Yes. No, it won't be a problem. Let me know what you need. And when. Thank you Comrade. Goodbye," he hung up and sighed, closing his eyes and massaging his temple.

"Anatoly?"

"There's to be a trial. In Leningrad. I've been asked to produce some data."

"To go there?"

"I don't know. They didn't say..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Anatoly - he's getting broody, even if he doesn't want to admit that fact to himself...


	11. Run or Fight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wasn't a bloody reactor and she didn't have an AZ-5 that he could just press to shut her down!
> 
> Two lots of smut to make up for none in the last chapter! There is plot here (I promise!). It's not just smut...

He spends the next week in and out of the reactor rooms, gathering data. Then late nights in his office, or at home, compiling it all. Bryukhanov often joins them in his office, adding to his workload. Between them, they manage to bamboozle Fomin. That man is happy as long as he's not going to get extra work, or, god forbid, the _blame_ for anything.

They don't have much time to themselves. No time to talk further on their future, on his vision. He stubbornly refuses, shakes his head when the subject is brought up by her.

She cornered him one night though, in their bedroom. Refusing to take take no for an answer, not accepting him using his tiredness as an excuse to close himself off. She wasn't a bloody reactor and she didn't have an AZ-5 that he could just press to shut her down! She knew that _something_ was worrying him, niggling at him. So she persisted. He's using his usual tactics of clamming up and refusing to speak. So, she cuddles, kisses, strokes and persuades a confession from him.

"I can't cope with it. Not now. Not with _this_ hanging over me. I... Please understand... It could be dangerous... What I reveal. It's not exactly what they're wanting to see... They don't have to use it of course, but they'll know that _I_ know..." he dropped his eyes, not looking at her. Not wanting to look at her.

"Dangerous... What are you planning on doing?" she whispered.

"The information from Moscow. I'll reveal it there, in my notes that they are wanting. Along with the data I'm compiling, the lists that Bryukhanov has been making. He's been called to provide data too. It all proves, what we've unravelled, that it's true. Proves what the cause of that... that... _travesty_ was! And it's not just the trial that will be getting this information. We are making sure that multiple copies are going out simultaneously to others. Both here and overseas." 

She gasped, reeling back, holding her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. Then slowly, she reached a hand out towards him. Touching his face, moving her hand under his chin, raising his face up.

"You're going to fight?" she asked, "you're going to battle them all?"

He looked up. His eyes, they blazed! His hands fisted at his sides, his brows furrowed tightly, his teeth clenched. His anger streamed from him in huge tsunami-like waves.

"I'll not run from this! I can't! So yes, I'll fight! But... It may cost me... _dearly_... So... No. I can't talk of children, I can't afford to... I can't even think on us! There may _be_ no us when I'm done..." he looked down again and shook his head sadly. "I can't speak of something I might not be here to see."

"Oh!" she choked back a sob. "But don't you see? I understand that you're not running from them, from the mess of Leningrad. But, don't _you_ understand? Instead, you're running from _me_! From _us_!"

" _What?_ " he's angry again and pulls away from her. " _No!_ I'm _protecting_ you! I'll not leave you alone to bring up a child, if there are any. Not if I'm... if I'm... _gone_..." he turned his back to her, his shoulders drooped and shook. 

"Anatoly..." she moved forwards, onto the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He shook it off, she can't hear his sobs, but she can see them, see his shoulders as they shake, hear the pat, pat, pat of his tears as they fall and land on his lap. She moves around him, kneeling in front of him, moving his legs apart so she can nestle between them, so she can crowd against him. She placed her hands on either side of his face and lifted him, raised him up so she can see him, see the tears streaming from his face. She kissed him, once on the lips, then once on each eye, each cheek, completely smothering his face with kisses. Not stopping until his tears stop, to be replaced by a choked laugh. 

"Crazy woman!" he grabbed her face in his hands, stilling her. Placing a kiss on her lips. "I can't fight you," he shook his head, "you're such a persistent bloody thing!" 

"I'm glad you finally realised! You can't hide away from me!" she laughed. "Now talk! Tell me what you're _really_ running from, because it's not Leningrad and it's not _entirely_ me, is it?"

He sighed. "I... I..." he shook his head, unsure of how to word his fear. He closed his eyes. "I'm scared I'll let you down, let any children we may have down. That I'll fail you... _them_... just as I failed... Just as I failed my son..." He opened his eyes and looked at her, his vision was clouded though, and he had to roughly swipe his tears away to see her. He wanted to watch her face properly, to see her frown and run from him as he thought she would.

She laughed.

He frowned. _What?_

"Silly man! You didn't fail your son. And you won't fail me! Don't think I don't know the risks you're taking, that we're _both_ taking, in all of this, not just Leningrad, but us," she laughed. "You'll not fail in anything. Not your fight in Leningrad. Not me or any children we are blessed with or not either!" 

"But... he _died_... because of _me_..."

"No... He _lived_... because of _you_. He wouldn't have been there if not for you! He may have left you earlier than intended, but you had time with him that you wouldn't have had if you'd refused his existence. You're running from his memory by saying that you failed him."

He looked up at her. He shook his head. She'd turned his whole sorrowful argument in on itself with that one sentence. 

"Anatoly Stepanovich Dyatlov! You will fight for him. Fight for us!" 

He looked at her. Looked at her blazing eyes, her furrowed brow, her clenched fists. She was a sight to behold. A small, short, angry woman, a mythical, avenging Erinyes! He looked over, to the small bedside lamp, as it flickered, bathing them both in a warm sulphurous glow. _Fight for me, father! Fight for her! Fight for the possibility of my siblings! Avenge the murdered dead!_ He pulled her towards him, holding her tightly, crying into her shoulder. He choked a laugh out as he felt her surge into him, felt her arms wrap around him and pull him towards her.

She kissed the side of his face, stroked his head, murmuring truth, devotion and love into him. Loading him with hope and joy. 

He kissed her. Uttering love and blazing passion back to her. Whispering in her ear lust filled, lewd statements of his immediate intent.

He grabbed her hands and dragged her up to stand in front of him. Her clothes didn't stay in place long, not against his ravenous onslaught. His fell away too, not being able to withstand her hungered passion. They fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs, growls, moans and joyous laughter. He pinned her down, underneath him. No foreplay, no preamble, he wanted inside her. He wanted to be one with her.

He held her arms above and to each side of her head, holding her in place with his hands on her wrists. He pinned her lower body down, holding her in place there with his groin. He pushed at her entrance. She was wet, but not as sopping as she usually was, he met resistance. He chastised himself upon seeing her grimace. He pulled back and leant his head forwards, biting her neck, sucking at that place that she so loved him paying attention to.

He held her wrists firmly, her hands flapped, trying to reach for him. He nipped at her earlobe then resumed his work on her neck. Laving, sucking, biting until her legs moved up, wrapping around him, her hips bucked upwards, begging him to enter. He moved his head, kissing her lips, battling her tongue. He pulled his face back, smiling as her lips tried to chase him.

His hips surged forwards, thrusting inside her, no resistance this time, only her beautiful moan as her eyes closed and her mouth fell open. He thrust his hips against her, slamming into her, taking her, having her. His grip on her wrists tightened, his thrusts sped up, pushing her, bouncing her. He buried his face in her neck as he came, roaring her name, growling, biting her again. Thrusting once more as he shook, pouring his orgasm into her. He stilled. Panting into her. Collapsing onto her.

"Anatoly..." she wriggled her hands free and pushed at him, "you're a hefty... _lump!_ " 

"Oh, sorry, love," he panted a laugh as he rolled from her, moving onto his back. He held his arms out towards her, beckoning for her to cuddle up to him.

He lifted her leg over his, opening her up and feeling with his fingers. Running them along the inside of her thigh, he found her! She was dripping, leaking him from within her. He growled and caught her lips in his. Kissing her as he pushed his fingers inside her, feeling how absolutely sodden she was, a mix of her juices and his essence.

She bucked her hips against him, wanting her release.

He moved his fingers up and rubbed her nub, smearing it with their mixed up lubrication. He moved his fingers as she'd taught him to, not teasing her this time, letting her peak come, feeling her tense then shudder against him. He pushed his fingers inside her again, feeling her pulse, feeling her flutter. He waited for her to still, then moved his fingers again, drawing another peak from her, another wanton gasp of his name.

He moved his fingers raising them up to his mouth. He'd not tasted them mixed together before. A tangy, salty combination. He smiled at her as she purred next to him. He moved his hand again, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples as his hand ran down her body, his other hand, the one wrapped around her, reached down and squeezed her bottom as his questing hand found her nub again. Rubbing and flicking a third orgasm from her.

He chuckled as she collapsed against him. Pulling her in close. Holding her tightly. Not caring about the sticky mess between them. He reached up, stretched over her and switched the bedroom light off, the moonlight from the open curtains filtered into their bedroom. He watched the dust motes dance in the beams, smiling as the light drifted them downwards towards where they lay. She stirred, pulling free from his grip.

"What's wrong...?" 

"Bathroom..." 

"Oh..." he smacked her backside as she left, pulling a squeak and a glare from her. He returned it with a laugh.

She tutted and smiled back at him.

She returned to the bedroom and paused in the doorway. She watched. He was lying on the bed, naked, arms bent, hands behind his head, a carefree smile on his face as he lay there, bathed in the moonlight. She brought a hand up to her mouth, her escaped sob announced her presence. 

He turned his head, frowning.

She rushed towards him, burying herself in his warm embrace.

"Sorry... You just looked so happy. I'm being silly." 

"No, love. I _am_ happy. Content. With you. And whatever may come, well... We'll do our best to deal with it."

-

He drafted the data that _they_ didn't want, and she typed it all up for him. It's all ready to go, on their kitchen table. They're just waiting on the courier now.

The phone rang. _That bloody thing_ , she thought.

"Hello? Yes. It's ready. What? Yes. When? Thank you Comrade. Goodbye." he placed the receiver back and turned to her, frowning.

"They want me to go. In person. To _present_ my data. At the trial."

"When?" she whispered.

"They're sending a car. First to collect Bryukhanov, then for me. It'll be here at six."

They both glance at the clock. Two pm.

She's decided that she absolutely despised that bloody telephone! _It never gives us anything but bad fucking news!_

"Shit!" she cursed. "Fucking bloody shitting shitty shits!"

She looked at him, catching his gaze. Then she ran at him, tugging at his clothes. Wanting to feel him inside her at least once more before he left for God knows how long. She pushed him, backing him up towards the bedroom. Dragging, tugging, pushing and pulling him along in her quest to have him. The back of his legs hit the bed. She pushed him down, forcing him to sit. She knelt between his legs, pulling his tie off, pushing his jacket back, over his shoulders. His shirt buttons fought against her, not wanting to be undone. _Blasted things!_ In the end, she undid the topmost of them, then pulled his shirt off over his head. She sighed as she dug her fingers into his chest hair. Threading her fingers in among the coarse hairs, reveling in the warmth of his skin.

"Move back, up the bed please, love," she asked him.

He shuffled backwards until he's lying down, his head rested upon a pillow. He grinned down at her as she battled with his belt and trousers, he lifted his bottom for her, aiding her task. His trousers get pulled at the ankle, whipped off and thrown on the floor. First one sock, then another flew after.

She straddled his mid thighs and smiled at his tented underpants. They get pulled down next, she shuffled along his legs, popping off the bed to stand at the end of it as she pulled his pants off. They get thrown to the floor to join the rest.

He watched avidly, licking his lips as she made short work of her own clothes. They all get chucked onto the floor too.

Apart from her knickers. She bunched them up and threw them at his head. He caught them and inhaled them. Breathing deeply of her delicious feminine scent.

She smiled down at him, then crawled onto the bed, moving on her hands and knees, travelling up the length of his body. She paused to lick up his hardened cock, sucking the clear fluid that pooled at its tip, pulling a moan from him. She continued her teasingly slow crawl up him until, finally, her face is level with his and her core is level with his cock. She rubbed herself along his length, they both close their eyes at the exquisite, intimate contact.

He growled at her, placing his hands on her hips, wanting to have her, but not just yet, he wanted this, their time together, to last as long as it possibly could. He moved them so they're on their sides, facing each other, breathing beach others panted breath. He moved one hand, locating her nub, rubbing it, toying with her, playing with her, as she rubbed herself against him, teasing him in return.

She moved, leaning into him, catching his lips with hers.

He sucked her bottom lip as he ran his fingers in delicious circles around her, as she panted his name. He nipped at her, causing her eyes to fly open but close again as he sucked her bottom lip where he'd bitten her and sped up his wicked fingers rhythm. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, kissing her deeply as he felt her shudder her release. He swallowed her moan, delighting in the deliciously wicked noise she made, then he pulled himself free of her and pushed her onto her back.

He traveled down her, kissing and nibbling her nipples, kneading her breasts, feeling her buck her hips up into him. He laughed and reached a hand down to tease her some more, then carried on kissing, licking and nipping his way down her body. He knelt between her legs, placing his hands on her thighs, spreading her wide, lowering himself until he saw his goal. _Her!_ He hoisted one of her legs up and over his shoulder to give himself better access to his luscious target. Then he surged forwards, licking, sucking, nipping, breathing her in. Working her with everything he had until she shuddered again, a drawn out, high pitched, delicious moaning of his name. He crawled back up her, then rolled onto his back. Wiping his mustache which glistened with her juices. 

She's breathing fast, and turns her head to look at him. She runs her eyes down him, the sight of him makes her breath hitch. It always did when she saw him in his full glory. She moved onto her side so she can observe him better, while she waits for her breathing to calm. She looks him up and down, gazing at him, taking him all in, wanting to keep that memory of him in her minds eye for when he's gone.

"See anything you like?" he asked as he reached down and wobbled himself. Making them both laugh.

"Mmm... Maybe...? I may need a closer look though..."

He wiggled his hips, making himself jiggle again. They laugh and he pulled her closer, kissing her deeply.

She moved, straddling him, letting his length play along her, rubbing herself with him, building some friction up.

His hands grip her waist. Now he wanted her. Wanted to be inside her.

She angled her hips and reached down behind herself, positioned him, lining him up.

His hips move up as hers move down. They meet with a sweaty slap. He lets out a long, low growl, his eyes fall closed as she worked him, pulling him closer and closer to his release. When it comes, when _he_ comes, he shouts her name and holds her there, against him. Her on him. Him in her. He looks up, taking the whole sight of her in as she places one hand on his chest, smiling down at him, her other hand pushes her hair our of her face. 

She leant down, relaxed herself onto him, lying on him. 

"You make a very warm, if a little hairy, mattress," she giggled as she played with his fluffy chest hair.

He rearranged them, lying her on her back, snuggling into her chest. 

"And these parts of you make a very lovely, soft pillow!" he rubbed her nipple, the nearest one to him, with his bristly mustache.

"Tickly!" she squeaked. 

He laughed, then snuggled into her again. Pulling her tightly into him, cuddling up and kissing her deeply.

They're on their sides now, facing each other, one of her legs is thrown over his. He stretched upwards, reached his arm around her, fiddling with the alarm clock, setting it for five. Then he leant into her, breathing her in and closed his eyes. He felt her fingers as she played with his chesty hair for a while. Her hands then moved to his head, massaging his temples, playing with his hair, stroking and petting him until he fell asleep. 

-

A quick shower and he's dressed, packed, ready to go. They are waiting at the kitchen table for the horrible knock. The one they're both dreading. His briefcase is stuffed full of the envelope with his data. She has a copy hidden away in a secret hidey hole here in the apartment. Another copy is hidden in his office. Further copies were sent out yesterday and the day before. Hopefully they've done enough.

She'd managed to sneak a surprise for him into his briefcase while he was dressing.

-

Now she comes to love that _wretched_ telephone, it is her only means of keeping in touch with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE ERINYES (Furies) were three goddesses of vengeance and retribution who punished men for crimes against the natural order. They were particularly concerned with homicide, unfilial conduct, offenses against the gods, and perjury. A victim seeking justice could call down the curse of the Erinys upon the criminal.
> 
> The wrath of the Erinyes manifested itself in a number of ways. The most severe of these was the tormenting madness inflicted upon a patricide or matricide. Murderers might suffer illness or disease; and a nation harbouring such a criminal, could suffer dearth, and with it hunger and disease. The wrath of the Erinyes could only be placated with the rite ritual purification and the completion of some task assigned for atonement.
> 
> https://www.theoi.com/Khthonios/Erinyes.html#:~:text=THE%20ERINYES%20(Furies)%20were%20three,the%20Erinys%20upon%20the%20criminal.


	12. Timely or Late?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now she comes to love that wretched telephone as it is her only means of keeping in touch with him.
> 
> So... Fomin is in charge. Will he:
> 
> (1) completely feck everything up?  
> (2) go on a mad, crazy power trip?  
> (3) do absolutely feck all?

She had spent all of that night, and the previous two, sat on their bed, waiting by that _wretched_ telephone. Waiting for his call. He absolutely hated being late for anything, so when he said that he'd call at Nine pm, then he would. She glanced at his bedside alarm clock. 2059. _Please phone! Please call tonight! Please!_ The clock ticked over to nine. The phone rang. _Thank God!_ _At last! And right on time!_ She laughed and rushed to pick the receiver up. She held it in both hands, clasping it tightly up to her ear. She dearly wanted to get the most out of this call that she could.

It was two horrible, long days since she'd last seen or heard him, when he'd kissed her goodbye in their kitchen. Since then, she had been going absolutely frantic with worry. The only thing they'd arranged was that he'd phone her at nine pm once he'd arrived. She'd spent the last two nights crying herself to sleep. But now he'd called! Oh how she dearly loved that telephone now!

"Hello, love!"

"Hello my beautiful rose. How did you know it was me? It could have been anyone?!"

"I just knew it was you! Who else would phone me? I mean, I don't know anyone else here. Not really..." 

"I'm sorry love, that you're there alone..."

"It's not your fault. I miss you, my hairy bear!" she choked back a sob.

"I know, my love. I know," he sighed. He hated that he'd not been able to speak to her until now. They'd be cloistered away. Forbidden to make outside contact until after the trial had started. He'd shouted and cursed at them. But they'd just smiled that slimy smile and ignored him. His anger at them was a sight to behold! He'd broken two chairs and a table, smashed innumerable glasses and plates and several waste paper baskets had met an untimely demise. _Fucking bastards! I'll never forgive them for upsetting her like this. I'll not forget!_

"I'm sorry I haven't called earlier. But... You know how it is..." 

"Yes, love. I understand. Are you... comfortable?"

"Yes, I'm in a hotel. All things are taken care of, and the bar has plenty of vodka!" 

"Oh... Just... I miss you," she whispered.

He could hear how her voice was breaking. He closed his eyes, not wanting to give in to his sorrow. _Fucking bastards!_

"I know, I know... hush now, love... All will be well."

"I can't smell you any more! On the bed sheets..."

"I'm sorry, love. I'll be back soon. I promise."

"All is well there?"

"Yes. All is well." Their code phrase for if he was in trouble or not.

He couldn't tell her how it really was. _Bad._ How he really felt. Caged. Watched. Trapped. Wary. Scared. _So very alone..._ He couldn't speak as he normally would with her. He knew he was being watched, listened to. So they had agreed on a set list of phrases that they could use to impart knowledge between each other. He changed the subject instead, back to a safer one for the both of them. Some normality in this abnormal time.

"How's work? I'm assuming that the place is still standing. Although I'd not put it past bloody Fomin to fuck something up while we, me and Bryukhanov, are both away!" He tried his best to distract her away from sad things. He missed her terribly too, but if he admitted that aloud, then it'll just be an hour of the both of them crying their hearts out over the telephone.

"Oh well... Sitnikov's kind of taken over. I heard, from one of the other girls in the pool, who heard it from her friend, who is neighbors with his, Sitnikov's wife, that _apparently_ Fomin spends most of his time sitting in Bryukhanov's office. Just sitting in there... behind the desk! Just sitting there...!"

"Ha! If I was Sitnikov, I'd just lock him in and throw away the bloody key! Just you watch your back with Fomin. Stay as far away from him as you can."

"I don't have anything to do with him. I'm waaaay too far down the pecking order of things to have any dealings with the high up types. Apart from you of course."

"Ha! Yes, apart from me. Just keep your distance, promise?"

"I promise."

"Oh... and by the way... I found your _present_. Luckily I checked my briefcase _before_ going into the courtroom... I don't think the judges would have appreciated seeing your pink frilly knickers!"

"Aw. You never know, eh?" she giggled.

He smiled. Imagining her happy face. He was glad that he was the cause of her laughter. If it was up to him, she'd never know sorrow or sadness.

"Anyway... they're here with me now. Your frillies. I'm breathing them in. Breathing _you_ in."

"Be careful, you'll get yourself all excited!"

"That's the plan! God, woman! I want you so damn much! I want your body! I wish you were all sweaty and naked underneath me right now! The things I'd do to you if you were!"

"Tell me... Tell me what you'd do to me..." she whispered.

"I'd fuck you into the mattress! I'd bury myself as deep as I could inside you. I'd want to make you peak so I could feel you as you squeeze yourself around me! You've got me feeling like a randy bloody teenager! I'm fucking hard all the damn time since I left!" he laughed.

She sighed at his lewd answer. "Are you all hard for me now?"

"Oh God! Yes! What are you wearing, love?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"Not much... One of your shirts that you wear to work. I found it in the laundry basket, so it smells of you."

"Anything else?"

"No, that's it..."

"Are you lying on the bed?"

"Yes. Legs open, waiting for you..."

"Mmm if only... I want you to feel yourself for me. Run your fingers around your nub, I want you to play with yourself for me. Can you do that?"

"I am already, as soon as you said that you were hard! I've got my fingers where only yours belong. I hope you're holding yourself too...?"

"Yes, yes I am! I'm so fucking hard for you. I want you so much! It won't take me long to come love, so speed your fingers up. I want to hear you shout my name as you come for me!"

"Yes, yes... I'm almost there! God! Talk dirty to me some more pleeeeeese!!!" she begged.

"If I were there now I'd be lying between your glorious thighs and it'd be my lips, my tongue, my mustache rubbing you there instead of your fingers. I'd be licking and sucking at that beautiful cunt of yours! Running my tongue around your pearl feeling it get hard, feeling you squirm underneath me! I'd be pumping my fingers in and out of your deliciously pussy at the same time! Feeling you get wetter and wetter! Oh God, I hope you're getting close?"

"I am! Uh... More! Tell me more...!" she gasped.

"I can feel you squirm under me as I suck your nub, as I fuck you with my fingers. Come for me love! Please!" he panted.

"Oh! Yes, yes uh yes!" she moaned and gasped his name as she peaked.

"Uhhh, sorry love I'm going to come all over your knickers!" he growled her name, a deep, feral moan. "God Roza! I've made a sticky mess of your favourite underwear!" he panted and laughed.

She giggled. "They'll be a complete mess by the time you get back! You'll have to hit them with a stick to get them to fold into your briefcase again!" she laughed.

"Ha, yes! Just you wait until I get back! You'll need to book time off work as you'll not be leaving our bedroom for a week at least!"

"Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Both! And you know it!" he growled.

"Oh... I can't wait," she whispered. "Really, I just can't wait for you to return to me!"

"I know, love. It'll be over soon. I'll be back with you soon."

"I hope so..." 

"Don't forget. I love you. Yes?"

"Yes. I love you too. Dream of me tonight?"

"Oh yes, dirty dreams," he chuckled.

"They're _always_ such filthy, dirty dreams if you're in mine, my love!"

"You won't have to dream for long. I'll be back soon, so dream me can be banished, replaced by real me!" he laughed. "I'm going to have to go now love, God I love you so much!"

"I love you to Anatoly. I miss your cuddles. I miss having you next to me. This big bed is so cold and lonely without you here next to me!"

"I can't wait to have your arms and legs wrapped around me again. But the thing I want most of all is to have you play with my hair, it soothes me, sends me off to sleep happy," he sighed.

"Goodnight love."

"Goodnight. Love you!"

"Love you more!"

She returned the receiver to its cradle and lay back on the bed. She stretched her arm out, and turned her head over to her left, where he slept. The empty space where he should be upset her so much. _Come back safely my love!_

-

He placed the receiver back and tidied himself up. He smiled as he thought of his love. His lover. How lucky he was to have her. How lucky he was to love and be loved! _I'll be back soon my love!_

He sighed and sat up on the edge of the bed and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. _I won't cry. I can't._ He needed to stay strong if he wanted to win at this game, at this deadly dance. He hated it here. Not just because he was away from her. But because he was constantly on edge. Waiting for the inevitable 'chat'. They'd already taken his and Bryukhanov's notes to 'check over them'. So _they_ knew now, what they both knew.

From the looks of it, the trial was just one big sham of a party cover up anyway. They'd already decided who was to blame. The poor sodding managers who survived, and the other poor buggers in the reactor room who hadn't! Not that he really expected anything different. Not that he expected the _real_ culprits to be charged.

He sighed again and stood. He said he'd meet Bryukhanov at ten in the bar of the hotel they were billeted in. His boss had whispered to him earlier that he had some news he wanted to tell him. He hoped it'd be good news. He could do with some... He checked his wallet and made his way out of his room. He needed to get a move on, he was already ten minutes late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who guessed option number (3) then?


	13. Fight or Flight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inevitable 'chat' comes sooner than he had expected...
> 
> Her attention had been completely focused on the Xerox machine, it's noise had masked the sound of anyone approaching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13 - Brought to you by Royal Blood': 'Trouble's Coming' 😬
> 
> (https://youtu.be/uURsMKMloM8).

The inevitable 'chat' comes sooner than he had expected. He'd already seen Comrade Legasov be escorted out not long after he presented at the trial yesterday.

That's what Bryukhanov wanted to tell him about the night before last. They'd gone for a walk outside - 'for a smoke and to stretch their legs' was the excuse given to the guards at the entrance. 'Dont stray far' was their curt reply. Bryukhanov had told him that he'd heard that the information that he, Dyatlov, had received from Moscow had also been found out by the scientists, including Legasov who he had chatted with earlier. Also he'd overheard that the data they'd sent out last week had reached the news channels in the West.

He's bundled into a car early in the morning after he had presented and consolidated upon what Legasov had revealed earlier. They drove him to some isolated building on the outskirts of where the trial was still taking part.

He's threatened. Not outright, not yet, that's not how they work, but he can see two men who hover in the background. Their suits aren't hanging quite as smoothly at their sides as they should. He squinted his eyes at them as he listened to the man standing in front of him. _This one is not in charge_ he thought. _The one sitting quietly, listening, over to the side is._

"Where did you get your information from Comrade Dyatlov? It was not the official redacted copy available to everyone," the man in front of him asked. The dance had begun.

"I have no idea who sent me the data. It was sent anonymously," he turned his head to address the man who sat. "Maybe you should run checks on who was _supposed_ to have redacted it?"

The man in front of him took a step closer. "You didn't check your source?"

Dyatlov shrugged his shoulders. "You can see from the envelope where the data came from. The source. You've got everything that I received."

"You have no further details? There's nothing you're hiding?" 

The dance spun on. The sitting man gave a small, barely there nod and the two armed men standing silently behind him drifted closer. Each one grabbed hold of one of his arms. He looked at them and struggled, testing their grip. _Bastards!_ They held him firmly between them. He stilled. Waiting for the inevitable. _Time to fight!_

"You may want to check the West's news channels. The information I, and my Comrades have received has gone too far for you to stop. You may threaten me," he looked to one side, then the other at the two men who held him. "But it's too late now. Everyone knows what you tried to hide! My disappearance and death will only prove your guilt!"

The dance shifted. The steps altered. The music changed. The sitting man stood and moved the standing man away. He looked at him. Peered at Dyatlov's face. He frowned, contemplating him. Deciding. Dyatlov struggled again. His two captors jerked him still. The man lifted a hand. The two thugs on either side of him stilled. A pause in the dance to draw breath.

"You will be offered a teaching position in Moscow. You will work to make sure that the... proposals...? that you and Comrade Bryukhanov outlined are... workable... You will then present them to the party for approval. You will not be allowed anywhere near a nuclear facility ever again. Your teaching career will be closely observed. Do you understand Comrade Dyatlov?"

The dance partners changed. The man who sat turned and walked away. As he left, he nodded at the other man, the one who stood. That one waited until his superior was out of the building then smiled at Dyatlov. He advanced towards him.

Another, new dance began. The two armed men gripped his arms tighter as the standing man stalked towards him. He grinned at Dyatlov and flexed his fingers.

-

He was dumped back in his hotel room to lick his wounds. He stood over the bathroom sink, leaning on it. He stared at himself in the chipped mirror that was stuck on the wall over the sink. His left eye was a swollen mess, his lip was cut and bloody. He gingerly touched his swollen nose, blood from it splatted into the sink, turning the water there a dilute crimson. He carefully pulled his shirt off. Large purple and black bruises bloomed on his sides. They'd been careful not to break anything, his nose, his ribs were intact. They knew their job well. _Fucking bastards!_

-

"Ah... Miss... Lebed isn't it?"

She turned around, her attention had been completely focused on the Xerox machine, it's noise had masked the sound of anyone approaching. The man was far too close to her for her comfort. She nodded her answer and took a step backwards, away from him.

"So... You are... close...? With Comrade Dyatlov?"

"Uh... Yes Comrade Fomin."

He nodded, then leant in closer, cornering her against the Xerox machine.

"So... You maybe know what he's doing...? What he's up to in Leningrad?"

She tried to keep her features as neutral as she could, even though she wanted to flinch from the minty smell of his breath as he exhaled his question over her.

"I'm afraid I'm not high enough up to be included in those sorts of discussions," she slid along the side of the machine, moving away. He followed her.

"Come now Miss Lebed. You and Comrade Dyatlov must have partook in a certain amount of... How can I put it...? Pillow talk? You two being... Intimate... _Sexually_ ," he leered at her and licked his lips.

He oozed closer to her, crowding against her, placing one had on the Xerox machine by her right side to stop her intended escape route.

"Maybe if you tell me what Comrade Dyatlov has been working on, then I can make your work here... Easier? Confer... Favours...? _Special_ favours... After all, you scratch my back and I can scratch yours... So to speak?"

"Um...?" she was cornered. _Oh God Anatoly, what am I going to do?_

"Miss Lebed! There you are!"

_Maybe not the Anatoly I was wanting, but he'll do!_ she thought.

"I've been waiting for those copies! Please can you hurry, my presentation starts in five minutes! Oh, hello Comrade Fomin. I've saved a seat right at the front for you, if you would be so kind as to proceed to the theatre..." He extended an arm out towards the hall and Fomin walked away from her, towards Anatoly Sitnikov.

"Ah, thank you Comrade Sitnikov, I'm most honoured," he smiled as he walked on, towards the hall.

She released her withheld breath and turned back to the Xerox, quickly finishing with her interrupted task. She rushed over to Anatoly Sitnikov and handed him the papers. 

He took them from her shaking hands.

"Be careful please, Miss Lebed. No going anywhere by yourself. Comrade Dyatlov telephoned me last night and asked if myself and a few of us could er... Keep an eye on you for him. The worker's bus leaves for Pripyat at five pm. You'd be wise to take that instead of walking home, as you normally do. Alright?" he patted her arm, smiling at her as she nodded at him.

"Valery," he beckoned at the other man who was hovering a few steps away from them, "could you walk Miss Lebed, Rozaliya, here to the canteen. Get her a cup of tea, then escort her back to the typing pool please."

The other man, Perevozchenko, nodded and held an arm out, pointing the way towards the canteen. "Miss...?"

"Thank you," she nodded at Sitnikov and smiled at Perevozchenko as he escorted her away.

-

She sat on the bed that night, legs crossed, telephone placed on the bed in front of her, waiting for nine pm to come. Her hands twisted and turned. She'd yet to decide what to tell him when he phoned. If he phoned. _Please phone!_

2100\. The phone rang. _Thank God!_ She rushed to pick the receiver up, cradling it against the side of her face.

"Anatoly...?"

"Yes, love. Who else would it be?"

"I miss you!" she cried into the receiver. Loud sobs that she'd been holding in all day finally broke free, escaping from her in torrents.

"Oh love! Has something happened?"

"Um..." she sniffed.

"Are you alright? Not hurt?"

"No, not hurt. Just a bit... Um... You were right... About... About _him_..."

" _Fomin!_ Did the fucker touch you? If that cunt has so much as _breathed_ on you...!" 

"I'm fine. Just a bit... shaken... He didn't touch me... He tried to... He _insinuated_ things... But didn't... He got interrupted..." 

"Sitnikov?" 

"Yes. Rescued by your namesake! Him and Valery Ivanovich," 

"Perevozchenko?"

"Yes."

"I owe them both some _good_ vodka! Oh, I've some good news for you, love."

"Oh! Is it that you're coming home, coming back? Please say yes!"

"Yes, love! We're leaving here tomorrow morning!" He moved the receiver away from his ear and flinched as she screamed. Loudly.

"Crazy woman!" he laughed.

"You can't blame me, for being happy, can you?" 

"I know, love. But I may need a new eardrum..." he chuckled.

She laughed. He smiled, then grimaced as his split lip pained him. He was glad that she was happy. Overjoyed that he'd made her laugh.

"Oh and... If you hear anything about me... It's not true. I'm fine."

She gasped. "You're alright... Not... Hurt...?"

"I'm fine, love. Remember what I said," he told her.

"Yes," _no details over the phone._

"So... I hope you'll be ready. When I get back? Remember what I promised... and threatened?"

"Yes," she giggled. "I'll book a week off work, from tomorrow, shall I?"

"From the day after probably... Just make sure you get plenty of rest tonight and tomorrow night, as you won't be getting much after then... Rest that is... As for anything else... Well... You just wait!" he growled.

"I can't wait...! I want you noooooow!" she whined.

"Aw love, I'll be there soon. Just keep yourself nice and moist for me, yes?"

"No danger of me being anything _but_ , my angry woodpecker! I'm positively _dripping_ for you. Have been ever since you left!"

"Mmm... You temptress! Tormenting me all the time!" his voice was low, loaded with lust.

"You can talk! Tormenting me with your bristles! Why can't they be nice and fluffy, like your chesty hairs?"

"I'll show you just how _bristly_ they are when I get my hands, and other parts on you...!"

"Other parts?" she breathed.

"Yes... My lips, tongue, mouth, fingers, hands... my cock..." 

"Mmm... I can't wait..."

"And not just _on_ you... parts of me will be _in_ you... Deep inside you..."

"Anaaatollly! Evil tormentor of your completely frustrated woman!" she whimpered.

"You'll not be frustrated for much longer, love. Soon I'll be there, un-frustrating you," he grunted, fidgeting with himself, rearranging himself as he lay on the bed. His side ached, so he couldn't play with himself as he wanted to. _Doesn't mean I can't relieve some of her frustration though...!_

"Are you very frustrated, love?"

"Yes...!" she whispered. "Yes...!"

"Oh... My poor Roza! Tell me how I can help?"

"You know how! Talk to me, talk to me and tell me how all those _parts_ of you will soon be _on_ and _in_ me..."

"Ah, love... Close your eyes. Imagine that it's my fingers there, rubbing you. My tongue there, licking, sucking. My lips kissing you. My _wicked_ mustache rubbing against you..." 

"Wicked, _naughty_ mustache!"

"Come for me, love... Let me hear you... Let me hear you as you peak..."

"Anatooollllyyy..." she moaned his name, a high pitched drawn out sound. Music to his ears! He listened as she panted, her breathing fast and so beautiful to him. _I miss her so much!_ he choked back a sob.

"The next time I see you, you'll be breathing my name to me just like that!"

"I can't wait... I really can't! I never thought... Never really thought I'd..."

"Find someone to share your life with, to love, to... miss...?" he squeezed his eyes shut. He'd said it, said what he'd tried not to. What he'd been trying, desperately not to voice. The tears that he knew would come, did. He wiped at his face roughly. Not wanting to let her hear.

"Anatoly...? You'll soon be back here. On this... our bed. We'll be back together soon. Everything back to normal, yes?"

"Yes, love. Everything back to normal," he sighed. He wanted to tell her that it wouldn't _quite_ be back to normal... But that would have to wait.

"I'll see you in a couple of days then? I'm guessing that you won't get another chance to call me...?"

"Probably not, love. But be there at nine, tomorrow, just in case, yes?"

"Yes, love. I will be! Safe travels! Love you!"

"Love you too."

He hung up and stood up carefully. He walked over to the bathroom, splashing his face with water to clear the tears away. His face wasn't as swollen. But it was still an awful mess. He walked back into his bedroom, grabbed his wallet and jacket and headed off to the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Anatoly! He needs lots of TLC upon his return.
> 
> And Fomin - he chose option (4) be a creep and a lech. (You best be putting your running shoes on, boy!)


	14. Reunions or Departures?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Reunion - at last! May contain a teensy tiny bit of smut...

She waited. Sitting in the kitchen. All his clothes are folded away, freshly laundered. There's fresh bedding. The fridge is full. The apartment is spotlessly clean. It's missing one important thing though. _Him!_

He had telephoned her briefly, last night, telling her they'd be arriving back around 10am the following morning. She glanced at the clock 10.15. Her hands twisted and turned, she chewed her bottom lip.

There's noise outside, car doors slamming, male voices. She ran over to the kitchen window and craned her head out of the open window, seeing two big black cars pull away. She sped to the front door, and pulled it open, rushing out to the stairwell. She gasped and gripped the railing tightly. Speechless. Frozen. Watching as he slowly ascended. He looked up and saw her. His smile was so beautiful, it melted her heart completely. She raised her hands to her mouth and sobbed, waiting as he took the last few steps two at a time in his rush to reach her.

He paused in front of her. His tears matched hers. They stared at each other, then he dropped his suitcase and briefcase and pulled her in. Hugging her, resting his face in her neck, moving his face against her warmth, snuggling into her, breathing her in. He pulled back slowly, smiling down at her. 

"Anatoly!" she sucked a breath in and reached a hand up to his face. 

He flinched as she touched his swollen eye.

"What...? What happened...? What did they do to you...?" she whispered.

He took her hand from his face and kissed her palm. "It's nothing. You should see the other guys," he joked.

"But...!"

"Come on, love. Let's get inside. I've a promise to keep!" Taking her hand in his, he pulled her forwards, not wanting to discuss those bastards. Not when she's there, in front of him, virtually naked, no bra under his t-shirt that she's wearing.

He picked his suitcase up as they moved. As she bent down to collect his briefcase, his keen eyes noticed that she's not wearing anything at all underneath his overlarge t-shirt that she wore. _Tormentor!_ He growled and hustled her inside their apartment. Ushering her inside with a gentle shove to her back, dropping his suitcase and pulling the briefcase from her grip to be thrown down somewhere behind him. The door is slammed closed with his foot as he pounced on her. Pressing her up against the wall. Crowding her. He grinned at her, a toothy leer. His fingers travel slowly, moving downwards, skimming over her skin in their quest to explore. He reached down to check with his fingers if his eyes were in fact correct. He found... _nothing_ , just her warm skin under his t-shirt, under his fingers. He squeezed her bottom with both hands.

"Wicked, wanton woman!" he leaned forwards, moving his face towards her, close but not touching.

"Please!" she closed her eyes as he spoke, his lips a hairs breadth from hers. 

"Tormentor!" He pushed into her, grinding himself against her. He leant forward some more, closing the distance between them, moving his head side to side, brushing her lips with his. 

"Please!" she bunched her fists, grabbing a handful of his suit jacket, whining as he withheld his kiss, the kiss she desperately desired.

"Temptress!" he reached down, feeling her, feeling how wet she was for him, running a finger along her, hearing her moan, feeling her hands clench tighter, feeling her squirm against him. He brought his hand back up and sucked her from his fingers. Watching as she opened her eyes to watch him. 

"Please!"

He laughed and leaned forwards, kissing her, taking what he wanted, letting her take from him.

Her hands released their deathly grip and travelled up and around his neck, holding him there, keeping him close, not wanting him to stop kissing, but she was wanting more. Wanting _him_. She lifted a leg up, wrapping it around him, rubbing herself against him, trying to relieve some of her pent up frustration.

His hands moved, undoing his belt and trousers, freeing himself. He gripped her thighs, raising her up, grunting as his sides protested, but he didn't care. He wanted his lovely lover. He wanted her now, here. A few bruised ribs weren't going to cause him to abandon his quest.

He thrust forwards, burying himself where he had so desperately wanted to be since he left her all those weeks ago. He pushed against her, moving her legs wider, higher, gripping her thighs tightly, opening her up to him. He pushed against her again, burying himself as far as he could go. Then pulled back, his tip barely inside her, then he thrust forwards, feeling the divine friction of her against him, feeling her warmth, feeling her surround him. Again he pulled out then rushed back, again and again until he felt the pressure building, tightening... Until... He exploded with a roar, a shout, a gasp of her name. A few last, small thrusts against her, inside her as he slowly descended from that ultimate high. He felt himself soften but didn't want to leave his lover, didn't want to part from her. He felt himself finally slip from her, felt his sides protest once more. He kissed her again and dropped her legs, let her slide herself against him as she lowered herself down.

"Fuck! Sorry, love. I should have taken care of you first, but I just wanted you so badly," he shook his head, aghast at his failure to provide for his lover, to not give back what he'd taken.

"Hush, love. Plenty of time for you to make it up to me, let me run a bath for you, get you all clean. Wash the travel from you. Then we can get all dirty again!" she giggled.

-

The bath did help, it calmed him and soothed his sore sides. She fussed and tutted over him. Livid at what had happened, what they'd done to him. 

"It could have been worse," he shrugged. "I'm a bit worse for wear, but I survived. And I got a deal from them," she opened her mouth to ask, but he hushed her with a quick kiss. "Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it later," he stood, dripping water, holding a hand out for a towel.

She wrapped him up in the towel and in her arms as he stepped out of the bath. Rubbing his back, carefully patting his sides. Kissing his poor swollen eye, bruised nose and lip.

"You look like some gangster or hard case," she giggled.

"Weeeell... There is a _certain_ part of me that's hard..." he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, rubbing himself against her, smiling as she giggled.

"Bedroom?" she asked.

"Yes, bedroom!" he growled.

They stood kissing, their lips and tongues becoming reacquainted with each other, with their favourite dance. 

He tugged at the t-shirt she was wearing. "Off! Now!"

She stepped back, pulling it up over her head.

He watched avidly as her breasts jiggled as her arms moved up above her head and back down. He dropped his towel and closed the distance between them again. Moving her backwards until the bed hit the back of her knees, forcing her to sit with a squeak.

He made himself comfortable, nestling himself between her legs. He kissed his way up her thighs, spreading her open with his hands, pausing to breathe her in before he dove forwards. He made quick work of her, not teasing her, he owed her a peak after being selfish earlier. He smiled delightedly at her moans and gasps and her drawn out shouting of his name as she came. He kneeled back, watching her pant as she leaned forward, smiling at him, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"Bed?" she asked.

"Yes, bed!" he growled, licking her juices from his mustache.

They lay on their sides, facing each other. He growled at her, hoisted one of legs up and over his hips, opening her up to him. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed it's tip along her. He had to fight the urge to just plunge himself into her. He let himself go and instead, ran his fingers along her, moving them around her clit, in just the way that she loved. He leant forwards, sucking her bottom lip as he played with her, as she panted his name. He bit her lip, her eyes fly open but closed again as he sucked at her bottom lip instead, speeding his fingers up. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, kissing her deeply as he felt her tense and then shudder. He swallowed her moan, then pushed her onto her back.

He traveled down her, kissing and nibbling her nipples, kneading her breasts and feeling her buck her hips up into him. He laughed, reaching a hand down to tease her, then carried on kissing, licking, nipping and tickling his way down her body. He finally reached his goal. _Her!_ He moved one of her legs up and over his shoulder to give himself better access. Then he surged forwards, licking, sucking, nipping, breathing her in. Working her with everything he had until she tensed and shuddered again. He crawled off her, kneeling up on the bed. She lifted her head, watching him as smiled down at her. She's breathing fast, the sight of him makes her breath hitch. It always does when she saw him in his full glory. 

He pushed and urged, cajoling her onto her tummy, spreading her legs so he can move himself between them. He leant forward, his chest on her back as he guided himself into her wetness. He whispered in her ear, telling her lovely, lewd things as he moved himself inside her. She lifted her bottom up, desperately trying to get him to go deeper, urgently trying to get some more friction. He nipped her shoulder, telling her to quit her wriggling. She whined, but complied. He moved back, kneeling and pulled at her hips, getting her to climb up onto her knees as well. Now he could get a better grip on her. He grabbed her hips and pulled her towards him. Watching as he pushed himself into her, looking down, watching himself pull out, glistening with _her_. He slammed into her hard a few times, causing her breasts to bounce and her buttocks to wobble. He slowed his pace and moved one of his hands from her hips to tease her. He felt himself glide in and out of her as he rubbed her, felt her squeeze him as she shouted his name again. He placed his hand back on her hip and pounded into her, slamming into her until he roared her name, holding her against him, keeping her hips tight against his as he emptied himself inside her. He finally let her go and they both collapse onto the bed, onto each other. She rolled over onto her back and he snuggled into her. Cuddling up and kissing her deeply. They're on their sides, facing each other, one of her legs is thrown over his.

"So..." she asked. "You made a deal?"

"Yes. We leave for Moscow in a months time."

-

After he had told her the details of his deal, his move, _their_ move, she had whispered to him that she was so excited. She'd never been to Moscow, but had always wanted to go, ever since she was little. She'd yawned as he kissed her, telling her he needed some water. He got up and padded into the kitchen, when he came back, he paused, standing next to the bed, smiling down at her, watching her sleep. He was glad that she didn't mind the move. It would be a big step for him. He'd secretly been overjoyed at this move. He never wanted to see another fucking nuclear reactor ever again! _The stupid fucking bastards have unwittingly done me a huge fucking favour!_ He was so nervous that she'd be upset about leaving. But was so pleased that she wasn't. He gingerly sat back down on the bed, reaching over to tenderly brush her soft cheek with the backs of his fingers, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear as he did so. She moved her head, murmured his name, reached out a hand for him.

"Shhh, love. Back to sleep. All is well."


	15. Past or Future?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Futures are planned. Pasts are dealt with. Scores are settled. Vodka is drunk. Songs are sung. Declarations are made.

He found Fomin in Bryukhanov's office, just like Roza said he would be. The weasel was sat in Bryukhanov's chair. He stood as soon as Dyatlov entered the room. _Guilty!_

"I hear that you've been talking to Miss Lebed. My Rozaliya...?"

"Er... Yes. We discussed matters."

Dyatlov stalked towards him. But Fomin kept the desk between himself and Dyatlov. Moving as he moved. Like a child's game. He wouldn't stand still. _Slippery fucker!_

Bryukhanov entered his office. He frowned at Fomin and walked round the desk, the opposite way from Dyatlov. Cornering Fomin. 

"I wasn't doing anything! Just asking questions!"

"Shut up Fomin!" Dyatlov said.

"Yes, shut up Fomin!" Bryukhanov said, "and please get out of my office!"

Fomin fled. Dyatlov sighed. He'd catch him later. He needed to speak with Bryukhanov first.

"Sit. Please," Bryukhanov pointed at the chairs in front of his desk. "So, a month?" 

"Yes. Sitnikov will be the ideal candidate to replace Fomin. Then under him, pick any of them. They're all good men." 

Bryukhanov nodded. "You'll let me know, how it goes?"

"Yes. Stick to how we agreed beforehand. Don't wait."

Bryukhanov nodded.

"Surround yourself with good men, not party men and you'll do well. It won't be the punishment they intend it to be."

"And you? They're forcing you from the reactors you love!"

"No... Maybe last year I would have thought that. Not now though. I've seen enough of what they can do now. The darkness and death. The _lies_! I don't want to fall into that dark abyss," he shook his head. "I was wrong. There's no fighting the atom. Just learning from it. I want to concentrate on teaching and learning now. To try my best to prevent another disaster. To protect and to save in the only way I know," he shrugged. "I've been given an opportunity too good to pass up, I've been given a chance," he leant forward. "The fuckers have done me a favour!" he whispered.

"Well... Let me know if you need anything Comrade," Bryukhanov stood, smiling and held his hand out. 

Dyatlov stood as well. Took the man's hand and pulled him in for a hug. Parting with happy pats on the back, both absolutely delighted at having survived the ordeal of Leningrad on their terms.

"You'll do what I asked then? For Rozaliya?"

"Oh! Yes! Of course! More than happy to, just tell me when and I'll be there! My wife will be over the moon, a perfect excuse for a new outfit! I'll be dragged out shopping, no doubt!" Bryukhanov laughed.

Dyatlov nodded, smiling, and stalked out. He needed to find Fomin. Time to fix that particular problem now.

-

He finally found him in the canteen. He strode up to him, purposeful strides quickly bringing him closer to his foe, not giving him a chance to wriggle away this time. Fomin opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get the chance, prevented by Dyatlov landing a perfect, thumping punch to the middle of his face. Everyone there heard the crack of bone. Fomin crumpled, going down, holding his face, blood filtering between his fingers, his glasses broken on the floor.

"Don't you fucking ever, _ever_ come near Miss Lebed again. You so much as fucking _breathe her name_ and you'll have much, _much_ more to worry about than a fucking stupid broken nose!" he shouted. He grabbed a handful of serviettes from the table nearby and threw them at him. "There! Clean yourself up, you're a fucking mess!" then he turned and stalked out, flexing his bloodied knuckles. 

"Did you see that! _Did you see that!_ Insubordination!" Fomin stood and shouted.

"Shut up Fomin," Sitnikov said. He'd been watching the exchange from nearby. All respect he, or any of the men, had held for their boss had evaporated away after they had observed his horrendous behaviour over the past few weeks. "I'd get yourself to the infirmary, looks like you walked into a door," he added.

"Oh yes, that doorframe looks very nasty!" added Yuvchenko.

"Bad angle to hit it at!" tutted Khodemchuk.

"Yea, nasty trip, and straight into the doorframe, nose first!" laughed Perevozchenko from the other side.

Fomin seethed and left. Laughter followed him out of the canteen.

-

Anatoly Dyatlov went to his office and sat behind his desk. He'd miss the place. He lovingly placed a hand on his desk, splaying his fingers. He grinned, remembering what he'd done here on this desk, in this chair, what _they'd_ done here. Beautiful, loving, absolutely _filthy_ things. The memories of them would travel with him though. He opened his briefcase and emptied the contents of his desk into it. Then he took the vodka from the bottom drawer of his desk and drank while he waited for his beloved Roza to finish her shift and meet him here.

-

She paused in the corridor outside his office. She heard something... _Singing?_ Someone was singing? She walked closer... Listening... She could make out the words now.

_'Twas on the good ship Venus,_

_By Christ you should have seen us_

_The figurehead_

_Was a whore in bed_

_Sucking a dead man's penis._

The voice travelled along the corridor... Bouncing off the walls, echoing up and down...

_The captain's name was Lugger._

_By Christ he was a bugger._

_He wasn't fit_

_To shovel shit_

_From one ship to another._

She laughed. _What??_ She drew closer... The singing... It was coming from Anatoly's office... What was going on?!

_The first mate's name was Carter._

_By God he was a farter._

_When the wind wouldn't blow,_

_And the ship wouldn't go,_

_Carter the farter would start 'er._

She giggled, it was him! She shook her head and opened the door to his office.

He waved at her. 

"Hellooooo my darling, _most beautiful_ lover! Come and give me a big old kiss, eh?" He held his arms out towards her. One held a bottle of vodka. An almost empty bottle of vodka.

"You've been drinking?" she asked.

He waved the bottle that was tightly clenched in his hand. "I may have had a teensy, tiny, _veeery_ small, little drinkie," he giggled and took a swig from the bottle.

_The second mate's name was Hopper._

_By God he had a whopper;_

_Twice round the deck,_

_Thrice round his neck,_

_And up his arse for a stopper._

She laughed and shook her head, walking round to him, towards the chair where he sat, holding her hand out to pull him up. But instead he tugged back and pulled her down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her and snuggling his head into the crook of her neck.

"You smell fucking gorgeous," he breathed in, "good enough to eat! Which I fucking would do right now, if I wasn't so fucking _pissed_!" he giggled into her, then sang again - his voice muffled somewhat...

_The second mate was Andy,_

_By Christ he had a dandy,_

_Till they crushed his cock, On a jagged rock,_

_For coming in the brandy._

"Come on, let's get you home!" She extricated herself and hauled him up. He stood, swaying, having to grab hold of the desk to stay upright. He grinned up at her.

"Oops! The floor seems to be a bit wobbly, love!" he giggled.

She frowned at him. He'd never manage the walk back. He'd bloodywell end up falling into a rosebush or something... She shook her head, smiling. _Ridiculous, but completely adorable man!_ She picked his phone up and dialed.

"Hello? Yes! I'd like a taxi please."

_The third mate's name was Morgan,_

"Outside the main entrance to the admin block of the power plant please."

_By god he was a gorgon,_

"Yes, as soon as possible."

_From half past eight, he played till late,_

"Ten minutes?"

_Upon the captain's organ!_

"Great, thanks. Bye!"

He giggled.

She shook her head. "Come on, let's go!" she took the, now empty, vodka bottle from his hand, placing it on the desk.

"Hey!"

"I think you've had quite enough of that!"

"Oh! Ruining my fun! Horrible, mean Harpie!"

She tugged on both his hands and he finally walked around his desk, swaying on his feet, leaning into her, his mustache tickling her ear.

"Don't forget my thingy... Wotsit... Bag...? Has a grippy thing... Handle...?"

"Briefcase?"

"That's the fucker! Criefbase! S'important. Got my manger... manage... mangle... _Boss stuff_ in it. And I'm a big fucking boss!" he leant back and patted his chest.

"Yes, love. Come on, let's get your big boss arse home eh?"

"What? Have I really got a big bum?" he twisted round, frowning, trying to look at his bottom as she ushered him out.

"No, love. You've got the most gorgeous backside ever!" _He did, that was no lie._

"Aw, thanks my darling. You say the most lovelimostestest things!"

_The captain's wife was Mabel,_

_And by God was she able_

_To give the crew_

_Their daily screw_

_Upon the galley table._

_Oh no not again_ , she thought... As they continued along the corridor, he bounced off the walls and his singing echoed along it, as she pushed, dragged and ushered him along and out of the main door. The taxi was there already. _Thank God!_ she thought.

"Pripyat please," she said to the driver after bundling Anatoly into the cab. He got his foot tangled in the seatbelt and collapsed onto the floor of the back seat in a fit of giggles. _It's going to be a long drive back_ , she thought.

She pulled on his arm and dragged him up onto the seat. He slowly slid sideways, until he was leaning into her, his face resting on her chest.

"Hello, love," he said to her right breast, "where's your twin? I was sure there were two of you last time I looked..." 

"Er... He's not going to throw up is he, only I've just had the upholstery cleaned?" the cabbie asked.

"No, no... But he may start singing... Just warning you..." she batted Anatoly's hand away as he started squeezing her breast, making small honking noises. "Behave!" she laughed at him as he slowly slid down, ending up back on the floor of the cab again. This time she left him there.

"Singing? Whose been singing? Can't be me! I can't sing, nope, not me! Completely tone deaf!" Anatoly declared loudly from the floor of the cab. 

_The cabin boy was Kipper,_   
_By Christ he was a nipper._   
_He stuffed his arse_   
_with broken glass_   
_And circumcised the skipper._

Anatoly Stepanovich Dyatlov sang with a beautiful, perfectly in tune, baritone voice.

_The captain's lovely daughter_   
_Liked swimming in the water._   
_Delighted squeals_   
_Came when some eels_   
_Swam into her sexual quarters._

Now the cabbie joined in.

_God help me!_ She thought as she shook her head. _Are we there yet?_

As they pulled towards their block, the cabbie and Dyatlov sang even louder.

_And when we reached our station,_   
_Through skillful navigation,_   
_The ship got sunk_   
_in a wave of spunk,_   
_From too much fornication._

She paid the laughing cabbie, grabbed the briefcase, and pulled a struggling Dyatlov from the cab.

They climbed the two flights of stairs to their apartment. She had to virtually push him on his backside up them.

"Come on, almost there!" she said, pushing him into the kitchen.

"Where? Where are we going? Somewhere nice?"

"We live here," she said, pushing him into one of the kitchen chairs.

"We do? Oh that's lucky!"

"Sit down while I make you some coffee, love," she said as she put the kettle on.

"No! More vodka!" He smacked the table top.

"No. Just coffee for you!"

"Harridan!"

-

She helped him get undressed and got him into bed. Listening to him sigh as his head hit the soft pillow. 

"Stay. Please," he held an arm up, beckoning her into the warmth of his embrace. He smiled up at her, a soppy, lopsided smile, his eyes half closed.

She smiled, slipping into bed with him, her only clothing was one of his big, baggy t-shirts that she had appropriated from his half of the wardrobe.

"Sorry love, I'm a bit too tired for anything other than hugs tonight," he said as he pulled her in closer, wrapping his arms around her.

"It doesn't matter, love, you give the best bear hugs."

He sighed, re-opening his eyes and staring at her. "I love you, you know that don't you? It's a funny word isn't it? 'Love'? A small, single word, not very big, but it means the world. It draws through everything, cuts your life in two, then stitches you back again, mending you. Tying you to your other half, the half that's been missing. Until you find it, you don't realise how much you need it. You're my other half. The missing part of me I didn't know was missing. You mean the world to me," he yawned, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

He didn't hear her whispered words.

"You mean the world to me too, love."

He didn't feel her kisses, or see her loving smile and the tears streaming down her face as she cuddled up against him, overjoyed at his beautiful words.

He sighed as she moved, curling himself into her as close as he could get himself.

Where one of them ended and the other began, none could tell as their limbs were tangled over and around each other that tightly.

-

‘ _Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge. That’s what it is: an edge; a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.’ -_ Delirium, Lauren Oliver

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every country/culture has rude drinking songs, I'm sure Soviet Russia was no different. But not knowing any of them, I used the good old rude rugby song that is 'The Good Ship Venus' instead.


	16. Work or Play?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So... Will you walk me to work this morning?"
> 
> (Wriggly desk is wriggly...)

"So... Will you walk me to work this morning?"

"I might," he wrapped himself around her, "or I might just keep you here, all to myself!" he growled in her ear.

"Just because _you_ don't have to go into work today... Ooooh! ... wicked, evil man!"

She giggled as he tickled her ear with his bristly mustache, moving lower, rubbing the stiff hairs against her neck. Against the spot that she loved him to pay extra attention to. She moaned and tilted her head to the side, allowing him extra access. He kissed her gently, small barely there kisses, watching her eyes flutter and close, feeling her fingers dig into his flesh where she held him. 

The telephone rang.

"Fucking thing!" he ignored it, carrying on with his ministrations.

The telephone rang again.

"Fuck!"

He sighed and reached over, grabbing the 'phone, lying on his back, he placing the wretched telephone on his chest. He frowned and picked the receiver up.

"Yes? This had better be good! I'm fucking busy!"

He pulled her towards him with his left arm. She giggled, curling up against him, running a forefinger around one of his nipples. Watching him as his eyes closed and he sucked a breath in.

"No, she's not coming into work today. She's got a temperature. Yes, she's very hot. Burning up. Bloody boiling."

He moved the receiver to the other side of his head so that she could listen too.

She giggled.

"What's that noise? Oh, that's just the cat. Yes, I've got a lovely ginger one, I'm just stroking it now. You didn't know? Well, now you do!" he reached down with his right hand and ran a finger along her, causing her to gasp in his ear.

"That noise? Oh yes, that was it purring."

She giggled into his neck.

"Tomorrow? Not sure. I'll let you know."

He slammed the receiver down, not wanting any more stupid questions to distract him from his extremely important business. 

"Now where was I?" he placed the phone back on the bedside table, turned onto his side, sighing as he nestled back into her, nibbling at that very same spot on her neck again.

"Mmmm... you know I've got work to finish before we go," she said in a rather breathless voice.

"You've got more important work to finish here first," he said as he rubbed himself against her.

"I've got lots of typing to do," she murmured.

"You can put those delicate fingers to better use here, on me!" He took her hand and placed it on his groin, grinding into her as she wrapped her fingers around him.

"I've got meetings to take notes for," she whimpered as he sucked her neck.

"You can take notes on this meeting if you like?" he said as he ran his finger around her nub.

"Ooooh... and I've dictations to listen to..." she breathed as she moved her hand, pumping him up and down as he pushed his fingers inside her, moving them in time with her hand on him.

"I'll dictate to you love. I'll dictate exactly what I'm going to do to you," he moaned.

"What... What are you... going to... to do to... me..." she whined as he flicked and rubbed at her, speeding his fingers up so that her hand pumping him up and down completely lost its rhythm.

He waited for her to peak, then hastily pushed her onto her back, diving into her with enough speed so that he could enjoy the indescribably rapturous feeling of her pulsing around him. He held himself there, inside her, waiting for her peak to ebb away. He watched as she finally opened her eyes and lifted her legs up, wrapping them around him, granting him entrance deeper inside her. He leaned down and joined his lips with hers, kissing her deeply, delighting in the feeling of her arms wrapping around his neck, her fingers toying with the long hair that tumbled down his nape. He slowly moved himself within her, taking his time, enjoying the sensations of being there, inside her, joined with her. He moaned as he felt her squeeze him, felt her tighten her muscles around him, heightening his experience, bringing him closer to where he wanted to be, the closest he could possibly be to her.

He sped up, he was getting closer, he felt himself tighten, felt that spring coiling up, getting ready to release itself. Release into her. He felt her squeeze him again, that was it, that was what pushed him over, sent him over the edge. Groaning her name in her ear as he experienced that high, that peak that only she could pull from him. His breath was shaky as he slowly rolled off her, onto his back. He pulled her into his side, holding her tightly towards him as his breathing gradually slowed.

-

"So..." he said as they lay in bed, her on her tummy, him on his side. He had a large red folder open and was scratching a pencil over the pages, making hasty notes in it. "Hey, stay still! I can't write properly if my desk keeps squirming!" The red folder was resting on the small of her back.

"So... as I was about to say... I've booked the big hall. And Bryukhanov's secretary has taken over organising the food."

"Oh? How did you manage that?" she turned and stared at him.

"Weeell... I did what you said and asked her if she knew of any cheap restaurants while I was waiting for Bryukhanov to finish on the telephone...."

"Hey! I never said _cheap_ restaurants, just restaurants..." she interrupted.

"Just trying to save us some money," he shrugged. "Anyway... She tutted at me. An actual tut!! Apparently I am not supposed to cut corners on that sort of thing and being a completely incompetent male - her actual words - she's taking over. And I'm not arguing with _that_ one!" he paused, looking over at her and smiling. "Did you know that Bryukhanov let her give Fomin his marching orders, I fucking wish I could have been there to watch _that_!" he laughed. 

"Where's he going?" she asked.

"Somewhere out east I think. I'll ask Bryukhanov tomorrow when I see him. As long as he's not here, I don't fucking care! _The fucker!_ "

"I hope you've ordered enough drinks?"

"I've ordered some beer, wine and vodka... People are bringing their own too... Hopefully there won't be too much of Akimov's home brew though... Although by the time it gets late, I don't think people will really care...!"

"Maybe save your singing for then too, when the children have gone to bed, if you'll be singing _that_ song again!" she giggled.

"Yes, very good... Thank you for reminding me about that. Again..." he rolled his eyes at her.

"Stolyarchuk says he can source a cake from a relative who does that sort of thing. Which reminds me, I have to save one of the good bottles of vodka for him, as well as for Sitnikov and Perevozchenko. He assisted me a while back..." he scribbled another note down in his folder. 

"He did?" she turned her head towards him.

"Yes, with your birthday. Now where was I?"

"Cake?"

"Oh, yes! Cake is being sorted. Um... You've got your dress?"

"Yes, final fitting tomorrow," she turned her head towards him again, grinning. "I bought my underwear yesterday, while you were on site, helping out in the control rooms."

"Do I get a preview?"

"No!" she laughed, "it's bad luck!"

"I thought that was only the dress?" he smirked.

"Flowers?" she said, changing the subject before he got too distracted.

"Yes. Bryukhanov is helping with that. I've got the ZAGS date and time here, I've asked the two witnesses, and they've agreed. So... I think we are mostly sorted!"

"Car?"

"Oh yes," he flicked through the pages of his folder. "Taxi is all booked!"

"Music?"

He flicked through the pages again. "No! I've not done that!" he scribbled furiously.

"Your suit?"

"Hired and hanging up over there," he pointed at a suit bag hanging from the top of their wardrobe.

"So my wriggly desk..." he closed the red folder and placed it and his pencil down on the floor. "Do I get a preview of your underwear then?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many character mentions can I squish into one chapter? HeeHee!


	17. Sorrow or Joy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sorrowful occurrence, a joyful vision. A decision needs to be re-negotiated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: early miscarriage - nothing graphic, just talk about/around it after the occurrence.

He waited for her. Where they usually met nowadays, after her shift, if he had spent the day on site. Just like he had done today. His grumpy, angry, professional demeanor changed completely as soon as he saw her. Totally transforming his face with a wide smile. Gone was the ever haranguing, perfectionist, nit-picky boss. Instead there was a picture of a man in love. A man who smiled openly. He didn't have an office anymore, so they meet in the canteen, hugging and kissing to a chorus of well meant wolf whistles and jeers. Accompanied by shouts of: 'I'm trying to eat!' and 'get a room!'. To which he would reply: 'Yea, _I'm_ trying to eat too!' and 'I _would_ get a room, but one of you fuckers is squatting in my office!'.

He checked his watch again. It's almost an hour past when she was usually here. He slid out of his chair and strode over to the typing pool. He's told that she left just after lunch, she'd gone to the infirmary and not returned.

He jogged over there. She's not there either. She'd left two hours ago.

He sprinted back to their apartment. If she's not there then he doesn't know what he'll do. He shouted her name out as he rushed and stumbled in through the door.

"In here!"

She's sitting at the kitchen table, cradling a mug of tea. She looked up. Her eyes were overflowing with tears.

"Oh!" he rushed over to her. She folded into him as he knelt next to her, taking her hands in his. "What's happened? They said you'd been to the infirmary...?"

She broke down in tears, leaning forwards, falling to the floor in front of him, holding onto him. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back, kissing her head, murmuring softly to her as he waited for her tears to fade.

She finally pulled away and looked at him.

"I didn't even know. I had no idea. An inkling maybe..."

"Of what, love? An inkling of what?"

"A baby. Our baby. The one I didn't even know was there. It's gone. Gone before we even knew it was there!"

"What... What do you mean? A... a baby...?" his mind spun, unable to process what was going on.

"The nurse said I've had an early miscarriage. Said most women don't even realise. I've only missed one period, and this one is heavier and hurtier than normal. I just put that down to all the stress of... you know... What's been going on... you being away... Fomin..." she whispered.

"Oh, love!"

"I'm sorry. Sorry I let you down," she whispered.

"No! Don't be bloody ridiculous! How can you have let me down if you didn't even know? No, this is my fault! I shouldn't have agreed to us trying for a child. I never would have, not if I knew it would upset you so!" he frowned. "With my history... my past... the accident... I knew there would be... could be... possible problems..." He sighed deeply. "I agreed because I thought it would be... I hoped... it was something to dream about... a shared future for us... a possibility, even if it never became a reality..." he shook his head. 

He took her hands in his and placed kisses on her palms. "It was a lovely dream I suppose... But... We'll talk more later. I promise!"

She nodded a reply.

He reached forwards and kissed her lips. Gently. Reverently. Lovingly.

"Are you alright... were there... are there... complications?"

She shook her head. "No, just some bleeding and pain, the usual monthly things, but more so. I had a pregnancy test that came back positive, but the ultrasound... whatever was there... is gone... I never would have known except I'd gone to the infirmary for some pain medication as my period pains were a bit too much this month..."

"I'll phone work for you, let them know that you'll be taking the week off. I don't need to go in this week either. I'm going to stay here and look after you. Rest and more rest for you. Ok?"

"I love you." She shuffled into him, hugging him tightly, even though, because of how they were sat, it was a little awkward.

"I love you too," he said, softly kissing her head. He stood and took her hands. "Come on love, this hard floor is playing havoc on my poor knees!" He took her to the bedroom, sitting her on the edge of the bed, pulling her shoes off and kicking his off. Lying her down, lying down next to her, pulling her close, letting her tears and sorrow gently wash over him, letting his lap over her.

They lay there together, cuddling up, holding each other closely. Just _being_.

The window was open. The soft breeze played with the drawn back curtains, toying with them, ruffling and stroking them gently. Causing them to merrily dance and play. The hazy, summer evening sunlight filtered in, bathing them in its off-white glow. He closed his eyes. He listened. A robin's beautiful verse, a song thrush's repeated melody, a blackbird's scolding call, swifts screaming round the buildings, a dog barking and a person shouting a reply, the tinkling laughter of children at play. _Children_.

He choked back a sob and pulled her closer. She sighed and mumbled. She'd fallen asleep in his arms. He opened his eyes again and looked over at her serene, smiling face. He felt her arms around him tighten. Felt her even, steady breath on his face. Both sensations warmed him, gave him hope. Today had gone badly. He wondered again if he'd made the right decision, agreeing to her pleas to try for children. His vision had been so strong, felt so real. Maybe that was all it was? A vision? Something that was maybe possible, maybe not?

He knew that falling in love with her was the best decision he'd not really had to make. He'd never felt so loved, so content. Marrying her in a few weeks was the next best decision. He was overjoyed that she'd wanted to. Having children together? He wasn't so sure. They'd need to talk some more about this. And also to renegotiate their previous decision. Make sure. Be certain. Today had brought everything back into sharp focus again. His heart and his head were at war, telling him to take different paths. It wasn't an easy, straightforward choice, like the previous two had been. She was his, he was hers. That much he was certain of. It was as simple as that. But a _child_...? One thing that he was certain of was that he would not let her blame herself.

He turned his face back to the window, closing his eyes, letting the golden light wash over him. Letting it's warmth calm and reassure him. Letting the gentle breeze stroke and smooth over his troubled brow. Letting it take his worries and wash them away, cleansing his turbulent mind. Stilling it. Making room for something else...

_She was there, standing in front of him, his beautiful rose. She had her hands placed on the small of her back, her arms, bent at her elbows, winged out from her sides. She was standing with her back to him. He called her name and she moved her head to face him. As she turned, he saw that her belly was round with child. His child! She smiled and moved towards him. The awkward, beautiful waddle of a woman who was due any day now. She stopped in front of him, placing a hand on his cheek. She kissed him. A kiss full of love, full of hope for their future. She reached down and took his hand, placing it on her tummy. On their child. He felt the baby kick and he gazed up at her, beaming widely in absolute wonder. In absolute awe at her magnificence._

The exact same joyous vision as before. He choked out a sob, smiling as tears rolled down his cheeks. _Don't give up_ , the beautiful light spoke, _listen to your heart, your head and her. Together you'll make the best decision. You are hers and she is yours. That will ever be true. All is well. All is as it should be. Do not give up hope. Heal each other, breath life back into each other, do not let the flame fade and life will be breathed into the both of you in return. Let love ever be your guide!_

He felt her murmur and move next to him again as she slowly woke from her peaceful slumber. He opened his eyes, turning his head towards her, turning his soul towards hers. He gazed over at her, caught her beautiful eyes with his. Her eyes mirrored his. They shone with sorrow, but also burned with the bright flame that was their love for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two! They make me vacillate between downright fluffety fluff, silliness and angst. Poor loves! I think that they need another silly, fluffy, happy chapter next...
> 
> https://www.miscarriageassociation.org.uk/


	18. Prison or Freedom?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prison in a hairy cage. Freedom from everything for the day. Also featuring Chef Anatoly Ramsay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised - extremely silly, tooth rotting fluffety fluff (oh and a smidgen of smut!).

He was true to his word. They had a whole week to rest, recuperate and to just _be_. They'd not done that since they had known each other. They had spent happy, lazy weekends together, but never a whole _week_.

The first few days she'd railed against everything, including him. Vacillating between raging anger at the utter unfairness of the whole damn world and sheer grief at their loss. Alternately shouting at him while pounding his chest with her fists or crying rivers into his shoulder while she desperately clung to him.

They'd talked, argued and pleaded, with more shouting and crying pouring forth from the both of them. She wanted to let nature take its course, see what it granted them. He didn't want to see her upset again, he hated seeing her cry. In the end, he'd acknowledged her arguments. Accepting that they would try for a baby, but not _try_ try. He'd proposed and she'd agreed that they would go on as they were. If something happened, then all well and good. But he'd be damned if he'd be keeping to any bloody schedule like some kept farm or stud animal.

He'd overheard enough in the locker room about what some poor bastards had to do. All well and good at the beginning, all jokes, nudges and winks at their good luck. But after a few months, they looked so ragged and tired and _bored_ of it all. _Not so lucky now eh?_ he'd smirked to himself as he quietly listened.

She'd sniggered when he'd told her about all that. Smiling at him, kissing him and saying that he was her very own _stud._

_Silly woman!_ he'd thought and returned her beauteous smile with a cheeky grin. It was her first proper smile since he'd found her crying in the kitchen. He welcomed its return whole heartedly, celebrating it with a kiss and a tight embrace there and then. He promised himself that he'd do his utmost to lure more of her glorious smiles out from where they were timidly hiding away at the moment.

He quietly warned her to not get her hopes up. That her longed for outcome may never even happen, because of their age and how his previous accident may have affected him. He'd warned her that what had happened just recently, might happen again. It might be that all they would have to look forward to was more sorrow. He'd extracted a promise from her to come to him _first_ if anything like what had recently happened re-occurred. And not to run and hide from him as she had done. He'd reminded her that none of it was her fault, none of it was a problem of her sole making. They'd made the decision together, so they'd weather any consequences together too. He'd be damned thrice over if he'd leave her to suffer alone. _Not if I can help it_ , he'd vowed to himself.

"We do this together, or not at all," he'd said. "And that means dealing with the bad, as well as the good. Together."

He'd also told her that it would all be on one condition only - that they would wait until after the wedding at least. She needed to let her body heal after all. She'd happily agreed and smothered him in kisses. _Crazy woman!_ he'd thought. But secretly he'd been pleased. Both at her returned happiness, her kisses and the scary, delightful possibility of another child. Even if it were never to happen and remain just that, a possibility.

They spent the rest of that day, that night and most of the next day just cuddling in bed. Like two bears companionably cozied up together in their overwintering den. He was amazed that the blasted phone didn't ring. Although he had used it himself. Sneaking a whispered call in while she was asleep to hastily arrange the beginnings of something for later in the week. The sprouting of a surprise for her...!

She did so love being trapped in the warmth of his encircling embrace. Wrapped up in his arms and legs, tangled up with him. Just sleeping and enjoying the time to be quietly together. She breathed him in. Making studious note of all the various components that made up his unique scent: his own musky, bodily fragrance, his preferred soap, the mineral oil and beeswax mix he used to keep his long hair tidily in place and whatever that stuff was that he put in his moustache to keep it from being too bristly.

Although, at the moment, he was halfway to growing a full on beard as he hadn't bothered to shave in four days. She giggled as she ran her fingers through his no longer stubbly and scratchy cheek hairs, loving the feel of it now that it was longer, softer. She smiled at his rolled eyes as she toyed with her new fixation. 

"So my hairy chest is longer of interest to you then?" he asked, taking one of her hands and placing it over his heart. 

Her fingers automatically threaded themselves through the hair where he'd placed her hand. She sighed, letting her fingers run across his chest, delicately twirling strands of the fluffy hair around her digits.

"You are so very _hairy!_ " she said, letting her fingers play. "I'm completely torn between playing with your chesty hair, the soft hair at your nape and this new beard of yours!"

"No mention of my mustache?" he asked, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles, gently rubbing his bristles along them.

"That tickly thing?" she giggled, trying to pull her hand back from him as he wiggled his hairy top lip over her hand.

"Yes. It is rather tickly isn't it," he chuckled. "Especially in _certain_ places!" he grinned at her.

She laughed!

_What a joyous sound!_ he thought.

"But this scruff of yours is new. Different!" she ran her fingers along his hairy cheeks, sighing at her pleasure.

"Just imagine how tickly _that_ will be on those _certain_ places!" he said, his eyes sparkling at her. "I promise not to shave it off until you've stopped bleeding and I can test it out on you properly!"

She sighed and cuddled up close to him, resting her head on his shoulder, her left hand returning to toy with his chest hair.

"Things will return to normal soon, love. You'll see," he kissed her forehead and pulled her closer. Watching contentedly as her eyes closed and her beautiful smile grew. 

-

Today was different. She'd woken up alone. Her hairy cage was gone. She was no longer trapped in a hirsute prison. His side of their bed-den was empty. Her hairy bear had vanished. She lifted her head up from her pillow and listened. No bathroom noises... _Where was he?_ A loud, metallic clattering and an exclaimed 'fucking noisy thing!' gave him away.

She pulled some socks on. _There is absolutely no way I'm walking on that cold floor without any, I'd suggest buying some rugs if we were staying here!_ she thought. She tugged the borrowed, oversize t-shirt she was wearing down from where it was rumpled up around her hips and padded out to see what he was up to. 

The sight she found caused her to pause in the kitchen doorway and raise a hand up to her mouth to try and stifle a giggle that bubbled up. He lifted his head up at her noise.

"Oh, hello love!" he grinned at her.

"What _are_ you up to?" she laughed, walking towards him and wiping some flour from his cheek. 

"It's all chemistry and science based isn't it, cookery? But I didn't think it would be this fucking _messy_ though!" he frowned as he wiped a stray piece of dough from her cookery book that was open on the table in front of him.

"But why? What's all this in aid of?" she swept her hand around the kitchen, taking in the array of bread rolls, small pies and biscuits that littered every surface of their kitchen.

"Weeeell... I woke early, and thought I'd make myself useful while you slept. I'm making some things to take with us for a picnic," he grinned up at her as he continued to mix the dough in the bowl in front of him.

"I think you've got enough to feed the whole of Pripyat!" she smiled at him as she stole some cheese from the tub on the table in front of him. "Hang on... A _picnic_?" she frowned, pausing her chewing.

"Yes, my lovely cheese thief! I've borrowed a car for today. It was supposed to be a surprise," he shrugged and squinted up at the clock. "They should be dropping it round in about two hour's time, so you'd best go and get yourself ready, then you can help me tidy up and pack, yes?"

"Well, I may leave the tidying up to you... I think you've probably used up every single implement, plate and surface in the kitchen, including the floor!" she laughed as she placed a kiss on his proffered, flour-smeared cheek and headed off to the bathroom.

She paused in the doorway and turned back to him. "At least now I know what you were up to yesterday evening. Sneaking off to the shops, then shooing me out to the bedroom while you squirreled it all away. I _knew_ you were up to _something_ , I just couldn't figure out what!" 

"Ah! Mystery now solved, my love!" he laughed.

-

He was dozing off. The heady mix of a belly full of food, a bottle of beer, the warm afternoon sun and her delightful kisses had relaxed him entirely. He lay back on the blanket that they had spread under the heavy boughs of a massive chestnut tree, next to a peaceful glade.

He watched her as she sat next to him, picking some daisies. She was happily humming away a tune to herself while she played with the small, bright flowers that were growing in the lush, verdant area in front of where she relaxed. He wasn't certain what she was up to and the tune wasn't one he recognised, _I'll have to ask her later_ , he thought. He was glad that his surprise had paid off, that she was happier now. He closed his eyes and his breathing slowed. He drifted off to a contented sleep. 

Something tickling his nose roused him. He opened his eyes, squinting them, peering down his nose to try and ascertain what it was that was annoying him so. He saw that a long, bright green grass blade was the culprit. He followed the blade upwards, up along its length. _Fingers!_ Correction: the culprit was _her_! She was holding the long blade of grass and worrying his nose with it while she giggled. His eyes took her in, her smiling, beautiful, mischevious face as she lay next to him, propped up on her arm, her head in her other hand. Her giggling was music to his ears, a delightful sound that had been sadly lacking from the first few days of this week. He was glad it had returned, glad she was happier. Not so glad at her pesting though. He watched her hand, the one that held the infernal grass blade that was tickling him, lifting his hand, intending to shoo her. His smile vanished though, as she poked the grass up his left nostril, causing him to sneeze. He sniffed and frowned, grabbing at her, grasping her hand, flicking that _bloody_ grass blade away.

"I have you now, oh _annoying_ woman!" he grinned, pulling her towards him until she was resting on his chest, her face inches from his.

"Oh dear, I'm trapped! Whatever will you do with me?" she giggled.

"I should spank your ample backside for waking me from such a lovely dream!"

"Promises, promises!" she grinned down at him, rearranging herself so she now straddled him, resting her arms on his warm chest and lowering her lips to meet his. "And what was the lovely dream about? Knowing you, it was probably something naughty," she smiled down at him.

"Ah... You know me so well, love!" he grinned up at her as he bucked his hips into hers. His grin gentled, turning into a warm smile as his arms wrapped lovingly around her. "I was dreaming of us, you and me. About how we'd just got married and were making love beneath a chestnut tree, next to a beautiful glade, that looked remarkably like this one..."

She sighed and slid from him, curling herself into his side. "That sounds like a very lovely dream..."

"It'll be reality soon enough love, all of it. I promise!" He reached over and kissed her. Revelling in the soft sighs he pulled from her as his lips played with hers, as his tongue toyed with hers. A soft, gentle kiss, not so much filled with passion, although that was there, but it was more loving in nature. A kiss that didn't have to lead anywhere, except maybe more tender kissing. And love! His kissing spoke of sweet-tempered love.

This kiss was bursting with his bountiful love for her, a promise to love and cherish her for as long as she would let him. And even if she didn't, he'd still love her from afar. The light of his love would never dim, never fade. It's flame burnt brightly, it blazed with a beautiful golden conflagration that came from within him. The flame sustained him, fed him, kept him alive. It had also altered him. Changed him from an angry man, a forever frowning man, one that demanded perfection in everything, including himself. Instead, he was now a man who wasn't scared of failure. He was now a man who smiled, who loved, who japed with his colleagues when they heckled him for brazenly and openly showing his affection. He never would have _dared_ to do any of those things before. Before, he rarely smiled, and if he did, it was a fleeting, small thing, flitting away as soon as it appeared, any locker room heckling would have been met with frosty stares or harsh swearing. But that was all before the golden light was lit inside of him by her. By her love for him. By his love for her. Their love had given him the freedom to be himself.

Her soft sighs grew. Becoming moans. She deepened their kiss and grabbed his hand. Moving it from her waist, where he'd rested it, she placed it in-between her legs. 

"Please..." she asked.

He'd not touched her that way, not since her tearful revelation. He'd waited. Holding himself back, waiting for her permission. For when _she_ felt herself ready. His fingers moved, finding their way inside her knickers, sliding themselves into her. He wasn't sure how wet she was, it was difficult to tell with her bleeding, but her little nub was already engorged. His fingers toyed with her, speeding up, slowing, moving in the ways he knew she loved, teasing her in the way he loved. She squirmed beneath him, the leg that was thrown over his tugged him closer, her fingers gripped him tightly. She broke their kiss, her head fell back, her eyes closed and her mouth dropped open. He felt her tense, he heard her scream his name aloud, shouting her orgasm to the heavens. He thought that she had never, ever looked so damn beautiful before. She was his very own fiery haired temptress and tormentor.

"Alright, love?" he asked as her breathing calmed and her eyes finally fluttered open.

She laughed and kissed him. "Yes, love. Perfect." Her face changed, from a contented peaceful one to a more mischevious one. She pulled herself up, sitting up, then reached a hand down, undoing his belt and trousers. Reaching inside, grinning wickedly down at him as she felt how hard he was. His eyes closed as she gripped him and ran her hand up and down him.

She leaned forward, moving down, kissing him, licking him, sucking him into her mouth. Using her lips, tongue and hand to pull the most delicious peak from him. 

He held a shaky arm out to her, beckoning her back towards him. Smiling as she sighed and snuggled herself up to him. 

"When do you have to bring the car back?" she murmured into his shoulder.

He glanced at his watch. "Not for another three hours or so. Plenty of time for cuddling. Oh but first we must try the syrniki I made! We should really have eaten them for breakfast, but they should still be ok... I think? I seem to have built up a bit of an appetite for some reason, you _wicked_ woman!" he laughed, pulling her up as he sat back up again.

"Oh! Wait!" she exclaimed, reaching behind her, "I made you something!" she picked the 'something' up, cradling it delicately, then turned back to him. She leant forwards. "Stay still..." 

He watched as she reached up, a delicate floral chain stretched over her hands, crammed full of daisies, clover, buttercups and cornflowers, all plucked from the glade where they sat. Intertwined around each other in a beautiful wreath. She leaned forward and placed it upon his head. 

"There! Perfect! The faerie king of the glade!" she clapped her hands, then fell about, cackling to herself, wiping her eyes. "Oh love, I truly wish I had a camera right now! Your face is an _absolute_ picture!" she laughed, her amusement and joy was plainly writ on her face. Her wide smile, her sparkling eyes, her joy. It all made his heart melt.

"Mad, _crazy_ woman!" he laughed. _My mischevious, cushion throwing, lover has returned!_ he thought, as he shook his head, chuckling, caught up in her delight.

He wore the flower crown for the rest of the day, even driving back in it, which did garner a few odd stares, that he was sure he'd pay for at work next week. But he didn't care! _The return of her joyous former self and her beautiful smile is worth every stupid fucking remark that is bound to be thrown my way!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is it that when males do cookery, they always use every possible implement in the kitchen...?


	19. King or Comrade?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is Comrade Faerie King of the Glade going to do to defend his besmirched honour?
> 
> Featuring a return of THAT cleaning cupboard aka The Cupboard of Smut!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comrade Anya Neschadymenko is an OC creation of NatashaRedFox - this story links in with her story featuring her (Anya) and the beautiful Boris Stolyarchuk. Go read it, it's brilliant!

**In the changing room, Monday morning:**

"So, did you do anything _interesting_ last week Comrade Dyatlov?"

"Yea, go out anywhere _nice_?"

"On a _drive_ maybe?"

"Out to the countryside?"

"Somewhere with _flowers_?"

_Well that didn't take long!_ he thought. _Monday morning, early shift and it starts already!_

"Haha! Very good, have you lot not got any work to be getting on with? If you haven't, then I'm sure I can find you something _interesting_ or _nice_ to do!" he buttoned his white coat up and pulled the hem down roughly, straightening it out.

_Fuckers!_ he thought as he was surrounded by a chorus of sniggering.

"I recognised that voice Comrade Shashenok and don't think I can't hear you laughing at the back there Comrade Khodemchuk! You fuckers will be sorry! I may not be your boss any more, but that doesn't mean I can't make things very, _very_ interesting for you!" he swept the room with a toothsome, wolfish grin, then sauntered out of the changing room. He rolled his eyes and shook his head as their renewed laughter chased him out and down the corridor.

-

**Tuesday morning:**

"So Comrade Dyatlov, any tips for what sort of flowers to buy a lady?"

"Daisies maybe?"

"Wildflowers are so pretty aren't they?"

"Oh, but we know that Comrade Dyatlov likes _roses_!"

"Oh yea! Comrade Dyatlov just loves his roses alright."

"Ha! Like you ugly fuckers would even know what a _real_ lady looked like, let alone get close enough to one to actually give them some flowers!" he threw back at them as he straightened his hat, walking out of the changing room followed by the sound of laughter.

-

**Wednesday morning:**

"So Comrade Dyatlov, if i were to say… give my girlfriend some flowers… how would you suggest that I arrange them?"

"A nice vase?"

"A bouquet?"

"Or maybe a corsage?"

"Yea, something you could _wear_?"

"You'll be wearing my foot up your sorry arse if you fuckers don't move yourselves and get on with your work!"

-

**Thursday morning:**

"Hey Comrade Dyatlov, where's your crown?"

"Did it wilt?"

"Go all droopy?"

"You'll all be all droopy after a week of back to back night shifts!"

This response was met with more laughter and heckling.

"You just wait! I'll be organising something _special_ for you bunch of fuckers!" he smirked at them and sauntered off, heading out to the control rooms.

-

**Friday morning:**

There was a flower wreath inside his usual cupboard space in the changing room. _Oh, so that's how it is eh lads?_ he thought. There were several not very well hidden sniggers behind him. A wicked smile grew upon his face as his mind whirred. The wreath was very poorly made, it looked like it would fall apart as soon as he breathed on it. He took it out. _This is the perfect fucking excuse! This has worked out way better than I could ever have expected!_ he thought gleefully. He spun on his heel and addressed the crowd behind him.

"Bringing _this_ …" he held up the tatty crown, "...in _here_ is a serious breach of the safety regulations! So it seems to _me_ that you all are in sore need of going through all of the safety procedures again! I will be speaking to Comrade Bryukhanov later this morning and requesting that you should _all_ stay on after your shift tonight to do just that!" This announcement was met with sworn protestations. "Where..." he raised his voice to be heard above all the shouting, "... _Where_ I will be holding a special session on the subject! Any non-attendees will have to speak to Bryukhanov's secretary and explain to _her_ why they weren't there!" There were shocked gasps, accompanied by an abundance of vociferous swear words being released into the foisty changing room air.

There were several shouted cries of 'Don't be bloody stupid', 'That's just fucking ridiculous!' and 'What am I going to tell the wife about this, she'll have my guts for garters if I'm late!'

"Well, you should have thought of all that _before_ this reckless behaviour!" Dyatlov countered.

He then held up the slowly disintegrating crown.

"Also! I'm not wearing _this!_ Call that a flower crown? _Ha!_ Such shoddy workmanship! Zero out of ten for effort! I'd expect much better from anyone purporting to be a scientist or an engineer!" he squinted his eyes at them all.

He crushed the crown in his fist. "One of you fucking useless lot needs to clear that up!" He strode out of the locker room, smirking delightedly as he walked past all the frowning, grumbling faces.

-

**In the canteen, Friday lunchtime:**

"Hello, love!" she sat down next to him, placing a kiss on his lips and lovingly stroking his face, causing him to close his eyes and sigh. 

"Hello, my beautiful rose. How's it going with sorting everything out, is it all going to plan?"

She reached down and took a bite from her half of the sandwich that they always shared for lunch.

"Yes, love! Everything is ready, all is going to plan, just like you asked," she paused to chew and swallow. "I'll arrange and finish everything today while you finish your shift, and it'll all be perfect and ready for five," she wolfed down the rest of her sandwich. 

"Slow down, love! You'll get indigestion!" he laughed.

"I've not got long, I've got to finish off chasing and telephoning everyone I couldn't get hold of yet!" 

"Hey! If you wanted some chips you should have asked and I would have got you some!" he batted her hand away.

"But stealing some from you is so much more fun!" she giggled and kissed him again. She downed her juice and stood, pausing before leaving, frowning.

"Although I'm not sure why you want me to make another one of those for you again, like you want me to," she leant down to him. "Won't they laugh at you?"

"Probably... Too late for that anyway I'm afraid, they've been taking the piss out of me all week about that. I was spotted driving back," he shrugged.

"Oh!" she looked around the room, frowning, deciding who was to blame, who had annoyed her lover!

"If you're sure then. About that..."

"Yes love, don't worry," he squeezed her hands, dropping loving kisses on each of her knuckles in turn. "I'll see you later then."

"Yes, five, back here!" She placed one final kiss on his cheek, pinching another chip from his plate, before speeding off. 

" _Hey!_ " he shouted after her.

-

**Outside the canteen, Friday 5pm:**

She waited for him outside the closed canteen doors, just as he'd asked her to. 

She heard the crowd of them before she laid eyes on them. The whole rowdy group of them, the daytime shift, were preceded by their loudly grumbled complaining, abundant swearing and disgruntled moaning about the fucking unfairness of it all! She finally spotted them, coming along the corridor that led from the changing rooms. She spotted Anatoly at the front of them, leading them, heading up the crowd, diverting them towards the canteen and away from the large lecture hall where they expected to go, where they had all paused. 

He saw her and waved a greeting. She smiled as she bounced on her feet, brimming full of excited energy. She's so happy for him. Ecstatic! Bryukhanov's secretary placed a gentling hand on her arm. 

"Calm down, or you'll give the game away too soon!" she whispered out of the side of her mouth, then turned her stare back towards the men approaching them. There's some shuffling and rearranging of the order of them as several drop back to push others to the front instead. None of them are looking forward to the tedious prospect of a lecture on such a boring, if necessary, subject.

"Oh! Sorry!" she schooled her features as best as she could, although she couldn't help but smile as her beautiful lover approached and stopped in front of her, winking at her.

"Comrade Lebed, Comrade Neschadymenko. These are the fuckers on punishment duty!" announced Dyatlov loudly.

"Are any of them missing?" Comrade Neschadymenko asked, staring at the men, squinting her eyes and smirking to herself at their nervous foot shuffling.

"Nope! All present and as correct as this sorry bunch of fucks could ever be, Comrade Neschadymenko!" Dyatlov announced in a loud tone.

"Right!" she leaned back and opened the doors of the canteen, revealing their punishment.

The tables within had all been shoved back to run around the edges of the room, creating a large, open space in the middle. The tables were crammed full of all sorts of homemade food, all in a myriad of unmatched containers. Bottles of beer, wine and vodka were lined up, the higgledy piggledy bottles were all placed on one corner table. Several crates of dubious looking unlabelled bottles, obviously some sort of homebrew, were stacked up underneath.

The families of the dayshift men surged forwards. Moving from the middle of the large space where they had been quietly waiting, to greet them and pull them inside. 

"What?"

"What's going on?"

"What's all this?"

"I can't see, what are they saying is going on?'

"Right you lot!" Dyatlov raised his voice, making it travel over the questions surrounding him. "This is a farewell gift from me, to all of you fucking cheeky bastards," Dyatlov shouted. "Just make sure you leave something behind for the night shift, or I'll remind them it was you greedy sods that ate and drank everything! And I'm sure what _they_ arrange won't be as pleasant!" He paused, bending down while his Roza placed a new floral wreath upon his head. She had fashioned it out of the most beautiful blood red roses that she could find from outside. Anatoly Dyatlov straightened himself, pulling himself back upright, proudly standing tall in front of the men who had teased him mercilessly all week. 

"Now… if any of you fuckers has anything more to say, please go ahead, otherwise," he gestured to the open canteen doors and the family waiting within, "go and fucking enjoy yourselves!" He reached down and kissed his lovely, soon to be, wife. Their kiss was celebrated with a cacophony of jeers, wolf whistles and loudly shouted, lewd comments.

He finally came up for air, grinning back at his co-workers, daring them to comment on _anything!_ He stood aside, happily receiving their handshakes and claps on the back and maybe not so happily being the recipient of several kisses as they filed past him. He nodded at Comrade Neschadymenko, and gazed lovingly at his Roza who he held tightly against him. "Thank you. To both of you for organising this for me." 

"Well it didn't take much really... Mostly lots of organising and making sure everything and everyone was where they were supposed to be. Not much different from a normal work day here with that lot! But everyone made some food and brought some drinks and Bryukhanov put his hand in his pocket. And don't worry about the night shift, I've put aside some food and drink for them," Comrade Neschadymenko stated, smiling at the couple in front of her.

\- 

**Inside the canteen, Friday 10pm (ish):**

She pushed his flower crown back up again, it had sagged down, almost covering his eyes. He laughed. 

"I think I'm going a bit droopy, love!" 

She giggled. "Yes, I don't think you had better have any more vodka, or your flower crown won't be the _only_ thing going droopy tonight!"

"How dare you accuse the Faerie King of the Glade of being unable to get it up!" he said, trying his best to pull together a shocked look, but just descending into silly sniggering.

"Also, no one wants to hear your singing, love!" she smirked.

"You really won't let me forget about that, will you?" he laughed, pulling her closer, wrapping his arms around her where she was happily perched on his lap, her favourite spot to sit.

"Do you remember, last Christmas, at the party, when we were sat in this very same corner?" she asked, her face changing into a loving smile as she gently stroked his clean shaven cheek.

"After you dragged me under the mistletoe… and kissed me?" he said. "How could I forget?" he snuggled his nose into her neck, smiling softly at the beautiful memory that sprung to the fore of his mind. "I'll remember that day forever. And the night… Especially the night! Our first time together… You wicked, beautiful woman!" he growled, nipping at her neck, causing her to gasp.

"It wasn't our first kiss though... that night though… Do you remember…?" she whispered as she ran her fingers through his beautiful long hair. 

"How could I forget?" he laughed. 

She stood, causing his arms to fall from her and his body to tip forwards as it lost its prop of her body. She giggled at him as he scrambled about, trying to right himself, then looked down at his frowning face. "Come on!" she grabbed his hands and pulled.

"What...?"

"We might not get another chance!" she tugged at him, pulling him up.

"Where are we going?" he frowned, pulling back on her, then his face changed, flicking instantly from a frown to a wicked grin. "Ohhhh...! You little minx!"

Now it was him pulling her along. He tugged her out of the canteen. The only sound outside was their giggling and laughter as they ran along the empty corridors. He held a hand up to pause her headlong rush, timidly knocking on the door and switching the light on to check for prior occupancy. With the small space confirmed as being all to themselves, he bundled her into the cleaning cupboard. Wedging a broom against the door handle, just in case. _There will be no interruptions or misunderstandings this time!_ he thought, remembering a mortifying recent occurrence in this self same cupboard.

She reached up and took his flower crown off, carefully placing it over their heads, high up on the shelf behind them. Then she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, tugging him towards her, pulling him in for a kiss.

Their moans and sighs filled the small room. There was no hesitation, no delay, no thoughts about what to do. No pauses in figuring out what she wanted of him this time, unlike their first time, their first kiss, in this self same space. 

" _Roza_ …" 

"Yes…?"

He moved his hands, placing them under her thighs, lifting her up, spreading her open, feeling her legs wrap tightly around him as he nestled himself tightly against her core. He teased himself, grinding into her, pulling the most delicious, decadent noises from her. 

"Oh…" her fingers dug into his shoulders as he used her to gain some friction between them. Building them both up until they were scrabbling and tugging at each other, desperately wanting a release, any release, something to relieve the fierce ache between them.

"Please…"

"What love, tell me…?" he whispered as he nibbled at her ear.

"Please…!"

"You know we can't… drop your legs love, let me take care of you another way…"

She released the deathly grip her thighs had on him, slowly sliding down him, making sure to rub herself against him as she did so, just to feel some delicious friction. 

He dropped down to his knees, pulling her knickers down and off, grinning up at her as he scrunched them up and shoved them into the inside pocket of his jacket. He lifted one of her legs up and over his shoulder, placing kisses from her knee, all along the inside of her thigh, moving slowly, wickedly prolonging her agony until he reached his goal. Her scent, her unique heady aroma, drew him on, pulling him closer. It didn't take him long, a few twirls of his tongue, a few long licks along her, a few brushes of his moustache. Not long at all to make her fall apart above him, moaning his name out beautifully, in just the way that he loved to hear.

She finally opened her eyes, gazing adoringly down at him, dropping her wobbly leg down and falling to the floor with him, reaching over and holding his face between her hands, bestowing a beautiful, longing kiss from her lips to his. 

"Stand up, love. Your turn," she gazed at him, her eyes heavy and dark with lust and want.

Anatoly Stepanovich Dyatlov, never a knowingly stupid man, knew exactly when to do as he was told. He stood up in front of her, resting his hands on her shoulders, watching as her beautiful, delicate fingers undid his trousers and released him. He gasped as she licked him, rolling her tongue around him, along him, before using it, along with her lips and hands to pull a deep growl from within him. 

"Love… I…" he shook his head, words failing him. He dropped back down to sit in front of her. Pulling her into him, onto his lap, holding her close while his breathing slowed. "Thank you… just… thank you… I love you… _so very much_ …" he snuffled his head into her neck, breathing her in. Her arms tightened around him as she felt him shake his head, heard him sniff.

"I love you too, my darling, beautiful _hairy_ bear," she held him, stroking his head, kissing his neck, face, any part of him that she could reach until he settled.

"We had best get back… or people will wonder what's happened to us…" she murmured gently to him.

"I think they've a fair idea what we are up to," he laughed.

"Oh…?" 

"Well, we are getting married… so… and… well we weren't _exactly_ very quiet just now." He lovingly brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek, tucking a stray strand of her lovely hair behind her ear.

"Just a few more minutes here," she asked, "...please…?"

"A few more minutes… just us… together," he pulled her in for another loving kiss. 

-

They fell out of the cupboard, laughing and rearranging their clothes. They returned along the same corridors, again accompanied by their laughter and giggles, but this time it was a more leisurely, less needfully rushed journey. They paused several times. One pressing the other against a wall for a heated kiss. Daringly sneaking in a lust filled moment together, his wicked fingers pulling another peak from within her while he crowded her into a semi-hidden corner, his lips smothering her impassioned moans. 

On their distracted return to rejoin the party, they didn't heed another couple heading in the opposite direction to them, traveling with the same headlong, wanton rush that they had employed before.

-

**Later that night, in the same cleaning cupboard:**

"Ah... I think someone's been here before us tonight!" she said, smiling as she spied where the dark crimson petal that had floated down from above, had come from. It had fallen into her hair during their vigorous, passionate, shelf-shaking exertions. 

She smoothed his tousled hair down, straightened his glasses, placed a loving kiss on his wicked lips, smiling as she tasted herself on his mustache. She arranged the beautiful flower crown to her satisfaction upon his even more beautiful head. "Oh...! It suits you! I'll have to ask Roza how to make them!" She lavished him with an adoring smile, peering up at him, reaching up to lovingly stroke and kiss him, chasing the furrows away from his unsure face.

"Oh… you didn't hear the way they were mercilessly teasing Dyatlov in the changing room all _week…_ " he whispered, shaking his head, causing the flowers upon it to flutter, as he remembered all the rowdy banter that had been thrown at his ex boss.

"Ha! Let them _try!_ I bloodwell _dare_ them! Come on, let's get back, I want to try at least _one_ glass of Akimov's home brew. I hear that he's got a whole _garage_ full of it on the go for the wedding!" She dragged him out, back into the corridor, laughing at his scrunched up nose at mention of that particular drink.

  
  



	20. Neglect or Consideration?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anatoly Dyatlov was jealous. He had a dastardly rival. His beautiful Roza's attention was not focused on him, but fixed on another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silly fluffy romance. And amazingly... No smut! (Although there are mentions of smutty occurrences.) Oh and lots of SWEARS... Well, it is Dyatlov after all!

Anatoly Dyatlov was jealous. He had a dastardly rival. His beautiful Roza's attention was not focused on him, but fixed on another. He was sitting on the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His face was creased up with animosity and jealousy. He did not like being neglected like this. 

Previously, before he knew her, he would have relished the peace and quiet, looked forward to being left alone to get on with things as he wanted, when he wanted. Not now though. Now, he craved her attention. Her lavish touches were longed for, fantasised over, like a starved man envisioned an over-stacked, groaning table full of the most delicious morsels. 

He was reading up on the details of his new posting in Moscow to try and distract himself from his sadly felt neglect. Well… that's what he was _supposed_ to be doing. But his eyes, as always, were drawn towards her - his lover, soon to be wife. He paused in his _not_ reading to glance across at her. She was sitting far, far away. A league away! A quintillion Fermi's away! Her attention was focused elsewhere. She might as well have been continents away, even though she was merely curled up on the other end of the sofa from him. 

His hands fell, his paperwork drooped, his attention had fled from it. Instead, it had sped towards her, making a bee-line towards his sweet rose. 

He stared at her, taking in her whole form and pose. His eyes firstly fixed on her toes, where they poked out from under her. They were bare. Her shoes were flung off, abandoned, just like him. Her toes taunted him, teased him, made him wish that the rest of her were similarly clad. They were wiggling, fidgeting, as was the rest of her. His gaze travelled up, along her feet, to her legs, they were brought up, tucked underneath her, where he wished to be. Underneath her, in their bed. His eyes fell to her lap. He desperately desired to be resting there, to be the centre of her attention, but his usual place was usurped! 

His eyes flicked, being drawn to movement. Her bottom wiggled. He held his breath, his imaginings wandered back into lewd territory, where he was underneath her, in their bed, on this sofa, he wasn't fussy, their location wasn't important. What _was_ key was him being pinioned underneath her naked form, with her beautiful backside wiggling upon him and not there, so far away from him. A trillion kilometres away from his touch. He stifled a small whine. 

She sighed, snapping his attention back from his lust-filled musings. 

He squinted his eyes at his rival. His fists clenched, the paperwork crumpled and creased, crying out against his torture of it. He gritted his teeth, squinted his eyes. He was replaced… by a bloody fucking _notepad!_

He watched as her fingers tapped a rhythm on that _fucking_ notepad. _Her small, delicate fingers…!_ His mind wandered again, imagining those same dexterous digits, deliciously wrapped around _him_ instead of that damnable pencil. _Another rival!_ A loud sigh from her pulled him back to reality again. She was frowning over that bastarding notepad, scribbling something down. His eyes fixated on her mouth. Her delicious, wicked, glorious lips parted as she read her scribblings back to herself. Another sigh, then she frowned and scratched her words out viciously. She paused, placing that damn pencil in her mouth and sucking on the end of it. _Lucky fucking pencil!_ His filthy thoughts returned en masse. He felt a growl bubbling up from within him and had to swallow it down.

She’d been doing this for over an hour: scribble, read, scratch, sigh, repeat. Several pieces of paper had been roughly torn out of her pad, scrunched up and discarded onto the floor. All had been accompanied by a slew of heavy sighs and much mumbled swearing.

_That's it! I've had enough of this!_ He reached forwards, placing his long forgotten, crumpled paperwork onto the table in front of him. He yawned, widely, loudly, extravagantly stretching his arms up. He peered over at her, expecting her to say something. Instead, she carried on scribbling and frowning down at her notepad.

_Oh...!_ he thought, _neglected for that bloody notepad yet again!_ She would usually see or hear his yawns or sighs and pull him in for cuddles and kisses or let him lay his head in her lap and lavish him with her gentle touches and tender kisses… _Ignore your fucking notepad, let me be considered instead!_ _Let me lay in your lap, so that you can play with my hair. Your gentling touch means the world to me_ , he thought sadly.

He tried again, not deliberately wishing to disturb her, but not wanting to give up either. He wanted her to freely choose him, not to force his desires on her. Not that he wasn't afraid of resorting to _extremely_ dirty tactics though, to usurp his rival… 

He shuffled himself closer along the sofa until he was sitting next to her. He yawned again and stretched, lifting his arms up over his head, sneakily placing one arm behind his lover’s back. 

“Hello, love…” he lavished her with one of his best grins, one that promised her a world of wickedness, a plethora of passion and love. Always love.

She turned towards him, her frown vanishing completely, his rival forgotten. _Ha! Goodbye stupid fucking notepad!_ he thought. It and her pencil were placed down on the table and she turned towards him.

_Finally! Mission accomplished!_ he thought, patting himself on the back smugly at the successful execution of his cunning plan.

“Tired?” she asked.

“A bit… it was a busy day on site, I had a long handover session with Sitnikov…”

“Oh! And here’s me ignoring you! Come here,” she moved herself so that she was facing him. He moved his arm that was around her shoulder, dropping it to her waist, placing his other hand on the opposite side of her. 

_At last!_ Now he would finally receive what he’d been desperately wanting. That which only she could provide for him. He smiled contentedly as she reached over and ran her hands through his long hair. 

He laughed to himself, remembering how he'd casually remarked about how he'd thought about getting it cut. He'd made the mistake of dropping that into the conversation while they were in the kitchen. She'd threatened him with the knife held in her hand, vehemently telling him that he'd best not get a single strand cut! _Or else!_ He'd held his hands up, surrendering to her. Laughing as he promised to steer clear of the barbers. She smiled and then proceeded to show him just how happy she was at his decision, there on the kitchen table. Dinner was late and burnt that night and all the wrong way around, with pudding first! 

He released a contented sigh, leaning his head back as his eyes fluttered closed… waiting expectantly for what he knew would happen next. Her kisses landed all over his face, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his ears, delicate kisses on his eyelids. All as her beautiful fingers worked their magic, running all over his head, calming him, relaxing him, speaking volumes to him. _Ah… Bliss… Heaven!_ he thought as he sighed happily. This is what he lived for, her kisses, her loving attention. 

Its not sex that held them together. Although he admitted to himself that it was bloody _magnificent_ with her. All a man of his age, no dammit, a man _any_ age could have dreamed of, and more, so much more. No, it was _this_ that he desperately craved. Her calming touches, and her wondrous delicate kisses that she chose to bestow upon him. They told him all he needed to know. That he mattered to her, that she loved him. This was their glue, the close intimacy that they shared, the need to be with each other. To love her, to know that she loved him.

His mind drifted as he wondered how he had ever survived beforehand, without all this, without her.

He remembered how he would come back to his dark, empty apartment. His empty life. No, that was wrong, it wasn't empty, just filled with different things. Work, work and work. His life was all work before he met her. He lived for his work. For his love, his beloved reactor. Spending full weekends with it and even devoting long overnight sessions to it at times. He hadn’t tamed or conquered the atom. It had conquered him! He didn't see it then, not at the time. But looking back now, he saw that his life back then had different priorities, a different love. Now, his main priority was her. Taking care of her, making her happy, loving her, not the atom or the reactor. And in return for his gifts, she made him happy and took care of him. 

He'd not suffered any of his black, dark moods in such a long time. In fact, he couldn't remember the last one.

Her kisses landed on his lips, pulling him back to the present. He returned her kiss, deepening it, tilting his head to get closer to her. Feeling her move her arms up and wrap her hands around his neck. Her fingers played their favourite game, entwining themselves in the long hair at his nape. 

His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer, wanting her nearer. She shuffled herself, positioning herself on his lap. _Ah… there she is!_ Finally she was where he wanted her and he was where he wanted to be. Beneath her. _Too many clothes though_ , he thought as he bucked up into her. She moaned, grinding down into him. Her hands moved, framing him, stroking the sides of his face, holding him, cradling him as they kissed. Slow, gentle, languid kisses that promised equally slow and lengthy love-making.

They pulled apart, needing to take a breath, resting their foreheads against each other as they panted. Their dark, lust filled eyes locked onto each other. 

He brought his hands up, framing her face, just as she held him. A lock of her hair had escaped from her messy plait. He held it between his fingers. The golden sunset was behind her, framing her. Turning the lock he held into molten copper. He sucked in a breath. _So beautiful!_ He moved his fingers, tucking the strand behind her ear, stroking her face. 

"So beautiful…" he murmured, voicing his thoughts.

“So… not _too_ tired, are you?” she smiled at him.

“No, love. Not too tired…”

She stood and held a hand out to him, pulling him up, leading him off to their bedroom.

-

The next day she was once more sitting on the opposite end of the sofa to him. Again she was hundreds of kilometres away. His rival had returned! She was frowning and scratching away in that _blasted_ notepad again. He shuffled up to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, peering at the stupid fucking notepad. Wondering what had caught her attention so much so that she would ignore him. Again!

“Is it something I can help with, love?”

“Oh… I don't know… maybe…? probably…? I’m trying to think of something to say… at the wedding.” She lowered the pad and pencil down, resting them on her lap and turned towards him. “Do you know what you are going to say, when you get asked to make a speech?”

“Oh…” he said. “Yes and no. I know what I'm going to say… roughly… but i haven't written anything down, if that's what you're asking?” he shrugged. He took the pad and pencil from her hands, placing them on the table in front of him, then took her hands in his. He moved himself, dropping down to kneel in front of her.

“Maybe this will give you the inspiration you need? I mean, I didn't really do this properly before, did I?” he asked.

She shook her head, smiling down at him, giggling expectantly.

“Miss Lebed. I absolutely adore and love you, you’ve shown me how to live my life again, how to love again. Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be in love with you, and to have you love me back? I want a lifetime of long hugs and slow kisses with you,” he looked deeply into her eyes. 

“Oh!” she fell down on the floor next to him, her hands were still held in his, so she leaned forward and placed her lips on his, kissing him with passion, with love, with everything she had. 

“Is that a yes then?” he asked, laughing.

“Crazy man! Of course! Yes, yes and yes again! There isn't any person in the world that I want more than I want you,” she said softly. Her smile flickered though, shot through and laced with uncertainty, her brow furrowed.

"What is it, love? What has you so… confounded?" he asked, he looked at her, his eyes full of worry. _She has just said yes, so what is the matter here?_

"Are you not a little nervous? I mean… I know you've done this before… I'm… I've not… and," she sighed. "I overheard things… Well doesn't it worry you… that I'm a lot younger than you…?" she whispered.

"What? No! I mean… it _has_ been pointed out to me a few times…" he smirked.

"Oh…!" she frowned.

"Nothing for you to fret about, love. You know what that lot of fuckers are like with their idiotic banter, you heard them at the party," he shrugged. "They're just jealous though. 'An old man like you, managing to catch a beautiful young thing like her!' And all the other usual _comments_. Although I seem to remember it was _you_ doing most of the catching. I didn't stand a chance against you!"

She giggled. "Silly! You're not old," she dropped a kiss on one of his hands. "It really doesn't worry you then?" she repeated.

"No love! Of course not! What man wouldn't want a woman over twenty years younger than him dragging him into a cleaning cupboard and kissing him so beautifully!" He kissed first one of her hands, then the other, grazing his lips delicately against her knuckles.

"Yeees, I don't remember you complaining over much…" she giggled again.

"Only after you left. Running away. Leaving me in the dark, having to think boring thoughts until I calmed back down again! Wicked woman!" he laughed. "And you must have heard the rumours afterwards… about me…? I mean every other fucker and their dog seems to have! They still remind me, even now!"

"Oh!! My lipstick…" she giggled. "Sorry about that…" she grinned at him.

He rolled his eyes. "My tormentor, right from the start!"

She giggled. 

"So… any other worries?" he asked.

"No, love… I just… I'm being silly… the speech thing… there'll be so many people there… nerves I guess… I don't know…"

"Just say what you said earlier. 'There isn't any person in the world that I want more than I want you'. I mean, you had me on the verge of tears with that, so just imagine the effect on all of _them?_ You'll have all the babushkas within a twenty kilometre radius sobbing into their hankies," he smiled at her, his eyes becoming watery again at her beautiful sentiment.

"Oh! But it's true though. I really don't want anyone but you!"

"So, no calling the wedding off then?" he asked, a tinge of uncertainty there in his tone.

“No! Never! Absolutely not! And anyway... I've bought a dress now, so there's no backing out!” she laughed, pulling him in for another kiss.

“Which reminds me,” he grinned, standing and pulling her up in front of him. He leant down, brushing her lips with his, “you've still not shown me your special wedding underwear!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fermi = a unit of length equal to 10 to the power of −15 metre (one femtometre), used in nuclear physics. It is similar to the diameter of a proton.


	21. Misunderstandings or Certainty?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before the big day. Last minute nerves, misunderstandings and declarations.

Too much vodka. And a roiling, swirling whirlpool of excitement, apprehension, joy and anxiety about tomorrow had caused a bout of insomnia. They're curled up on the sofa together, still wide awake, talking. 

"So love, this time tomorrow…?" he smiled, pulling her in close.

"This time tomorrow you'll not be able to get rid of me so easily!" she giggled.

"Ha!" he snorted. "You've well and truly captured me haven't you?"

She lifted her head up from his shoulder. "You don't mind do you? I mean… about being… I mean you don't feel trapped…? captured…?"

"No, love, of course not! Wrong choice of words… how about… seduced, tempted, entranced, beguiled?"

"Oh… those words sound better," she giggled. "Although it was you that entranced and beguiled me first. You completely mesmerised me with your moustache, or I never would have thought of dragging you into that cleaning cupboard!" she giggled again.

"Hmmm… that cleaning cupboard…!" he frowned, his thoughts on it had recently become conflicted because of a certain misunderstanding. He downed another glass of vodka.

"I'll miss that cleaning cupboard…" she sighed.

"Maybe we can find a new one? One with a window, bigger light or a lock so there's no more mistakes!" He frowned.

"Oh… Poor Anatoly, you do fret so, I told you not to worry! I know it was a mistake, Anya pulling you in there. You spoiled her and Boris's fun!" she giggled. "Maybe I should hide out in there and 'accidentally' kiss Boris, then that way we'll be even, you and I?" she smirked.

His face descended into a frown and he pulled her back towards him. "No! No-one kisses you except me!" He proved his point by pulling her into him and fiercely kissing her, digging his fingers into her hips, growling as he devoured her, biting her bottom lip as he finally broke the kiss.

He pulled back, his eyes flashed darkly. "You're  _ mine _ …! No moustache except mine will ever be allowed to touch your lips…!"

"Oh… I'm yours… I've always been yours, my grumpy bear. Since our first kiss. Or even before then," she whispered, stroking his face, watching his eyes close as he smiled into her touch, his anger dissolving under her fingers.

"My wicked tormentor," he chuckled. "Hang on…!" He got up, laughing at her confusion. He jogged off to their bedroom, returning back, brandishing a large shoebox. He placed it on his lap, opened it and rummaged through it. He pulled forth a small, white rectangle, holding it up for her to see. 

"Do you remember this?" 

She scrambled over, sitting up next to him, curling into his side as he pulled her towards him, an arm wrapping around her.

"The slide? You kept the slide!"

"Of course! Do you remember what it said?" he smiled over at her.

"Yes! -  _ You are truly beautiful when you smile, Anatoly! _ " 

"Me, beautiful?" He shook his head. "I thought that whoever did that must have been delusional to think of me as  _ beautiful! _ " he laughed, shaking his head again.

"Oh, in that case, I'm  _ completely _ delusional!" she giggled.

"And then there's this," he rummaged again, pulling out a small note. "The note attached to the rose you left on my desk," he held the small piece of paper up for her.

She closed her eyes and recited it back, not needing to see the words to know what was written there. " _ For you, my beautiful Anatoly. I saw this and thought of you. It's perfect, just as you are. _ "

"I was so jealous you know, seeing you walking in the corridor, with that rose," he nudged her with his shoulder.

"Jealous?"

"Yes! Even after just that one kiss we had in that cupboard. You had me  _ raging _ because I misunderstood and thought you'd found someone else!"

"Oh!" she placed a kiss on his cheek. "Sorry!"

She reached over and brushed a lock of his long hair back, one that had fallen over his beautiful expressive eyes. "You are, you know…" she said, her fingers lingering, gently stroking his cheek.

"What…?" his eyes fluttered closed, enjoying her delicate, calming touch.

"Beautiful."

"Hmmm… You're right too, you know."

"I am?"

"Yes! You  _ are _ completely delusional!" he laughed.

She rolled her eyes at him and leant over, having a look at the other things in his keepsake box.

"Oh!" she held up a slightly crumpled dried rose.

"The one you left on my desk," he smiled.

Rummaging some more, she came across the little, lewd stick figure doodles that she'd done for him. He shook his head and she giggled.

More rummaging… "Oh!" she held up his invite to the last christmas party, smiling happily as she smoothed the paper out with her hands, running a finger along the words. 

He looked over at her happy face. His face dropped, becoming dark and furrowed. "You've not had an easy time of things recently though, with me, have you? I mean, my low moods, the whole uncertainty of everything… The only constant, the only certainty for me in all that  _ mess _ was your love. That was my tether in all that's happened. The whole Moscow thing, it was a big turning point for us… and all that happened while I was away… and after that too…"

"Oh love, it's not your fault, none of it. It  _ was _ a big turning point. But just look at all you've achieved here. And all that you've yet to achieve!"

"That  _ we've _ to achieve you mean?" he said. "And we've another big change tomorrow…" He paused, looking at her thoughtfully. "Come on, let's go for a walk!" he declared.

"Oh! But it's dark, and almost midnight!"

"Come on, let's go! It's my last chance to take a walk with the beautiful Miss Lebed!" He stood and pulled her up off the sofa, grinning at her grumbling resistance.

-

The clear summer night revealed a full, bright, hopeful moon that lit up the sky and shone it's promise down upon them. It illuminated them as they sat on a bench, where they gazed out at the eerily quiet, empty play park. She cradled a bunch of roses that he'd picked for her on their meanderings around the town. 

They mostly had the town square to themselves. There were a few people about, random drunks, raucously announcing their presence with out-of-tune singing and rambunctious laughter. 

"Hmmm… some late goers still out celebrating from your impromptu drinking session last night?"

"Sorry love, Sitnikov wanted a drink to celebrate after I asked him, like you said I should. Then one drink turned into another… and then a few others joined us…"

"Yeees… I know. I had to apologise to half of the apartments in our block this morning while you were snoring your head off. I didn't know that there were so many verses to  _ that _ song!" she shook her head, laughing at the memory.

"Sorry…" he said again, rubbing the back of his neck.

She remembered how she had been woken last night by the clattering of stones on the bedroom window and shouts of her name. She had opened the bedroom window to investigate, narrowly avoiding another thrown pebble, to be greeted by a shout of 'sorry!' and several loud giggles. She had looked down to see Anatoly and his co-workers merrily wobbling around downstairs in the courtyard outside their second floor apartment. They had laughed together as they serenaded her with their favourite lewd song. They had all looked so happy and carefree. She had to go downstairs to collect him, shooing them all off as she dragged her drunken soon-to-be husband up the stairs, back into their apartment. Once inside, he'd promptly lay down, curled up in the middle of the living room floor and fell asleep. She'd laughed and thrown a blanket over him, leaving him to it. He'd crawled into bed with her around three in the morning, informing her how much he loved her, pulling her in for a hug, then proceeding to snore loudly into her ear. 

"Will you miss it here? I mean, you've been here a long time. Longer than me. You've made it your home. And all your friends…" she asked gently.

"I will. But moving, it was the price I had to pay, for causing embarrassment to the party," he shrugged. "But I gladly accepted it, as it meant staying with you and not ending up in a ditch or rotting in some dank cell. They didn't really give me much choice." He squeezed her hand and kissed her knuckles as she sucked in a breath at his candid admissions. "Yes, I'll miss the open spaces, the woods. The roses. Friends. But you're my home now. You're my rose. What about you? Your family is here?"

"You're my family now," she stroked his cheek, pulling a sigh from him.

He hugged her closer. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Moscow is big, busy. We wouldn't have the whole town to ourselves at night, like here," he said.

"No. But we'll have each other."

"Yes. And at least you won't have to work in a typing pool with a Gorgon as a boss any more," he kissed the top of her head.

"Oh? I guess I'll have to look for another job then."

"No need, love. You'll be my personal secretary! Instead of a Gorgon, you'll have your very own angry woodpecker as your boss," he grinned down at her as she lifted her head from his shoulder, her mouth an 'o' of surprise.

"Oh! I'll need to speak to Anya, Bryukhanov's secretary, for tips on keeping you in line and keeping trouble away from you!" she laughed.

"I've spoken to them there and I've been allocated a nice big office and desk. There's even a sofa, table and chairs in the office," his wide grin at her revealed his lascivious, lewd thoughts.

She laughed at his wolfishly wicked smile.

"And you'll have your own office outside. To sharpen your thorns in, be my gatekeeper and prick all the Fomin's in the backside, keeping the idiots at bay and away from me!"

She shivered at the memory of that man, he still made her skin crawl.

"What's the time?" she yawned.

He looked at his watch. "Just after twenty past one. Come on, let's head back. It'll be a busy day tomorrow," he stood and, once again, pulled her reluctant form up from her seat.

"And it'll be a busy night too… I can't wait to have you, all hard, between my legs," she spoke softly, leaning towards him. She pulled him down towards her and whispered against his ear, "I can't wait to feel you inside me again." 

"Wicked temptress!" he growled. He paused them in their slow, arm-in-arm walk back. Another of his wide, wicked grins was sent her way, thrown down at her, challenging her. He moved again. This time, his long, purposeful strides sped her along, through the town, up the stairs, into their apartment. His strong hands tugged her into their bedroom, relieved them of their burdensome clothing. He proved to her that while he was between her legs, another part of him, while inside her, could make her scream, moan and gasp his name aloud.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 01:23:44 – the first explosion at Chernobyl...


	22. Old or New, Borrowed or Blue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Love is not love  
> Which alters when it alteration finds,  
> Or bends with the remover to remove:  
> O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
> That looks on tempests and is never shaken."  
> (Shakespeare - Sonnet 116) 
> 
> -
> 
> Loving, silly tooth-rotting fluffety fluff of the fluffiest kind. With added smut. And The Cupboard of Smut 2.0.

The day began early. She made a start on getting herself ready, hair, make up. Anatoly had already left. Kissing her and taking his suit, leaving her alone in their flat until her family arrived. He was exiled out to another’s apartment. Well, not exiled, more like escaped away from the overpowering mass of her family. She wasn't entirely sure if her mother completely approved of him or not. She knew that her father didn't. But then her father wasn't exactly approving of her or her two older brothers anyway, so her Anatoly just got added to her father's list of people to glare at. He often expressed his disappointment that none of his children had followed his or their mother's medical careers, none of the three of them being doctors like their parents. Her two brothers worked in the power plant as security guards, so they knew of her Anatoly. His fierce reputation preceded him well enough to make all be wary of his temper, but to still respect his knowledge. Her father never said much to him, Anatoly. Just stared at him. So… he had gladly ran away, taking the cowards route, leaving her well before her family arrived.

He came back at just before eleven, arriving in a cab with Sitnikov, his witness, and Anya, hers. All were there to carry her off to the ZAGS office. As soon as it stopped, the taxi was surrounded by a crowd of his co-workers and neighbors who were waiting outside the apartment block. They proceeded to cover the taxi in tape and streamers. _The fuckers! That’ll mean an extra tip for the taxi driver,_ _to get rid of all that stuff off from his car!_ he thought.

He heard her before he saw her. Well, not her as such, more her entourage, trying to stop him from reaching her where she stood next to the door of their apartment block.

“Oi! Let me through you bastards or I'll fucking do something you'll all regret," he shouted.

"Oh yea, go on then!" 

"Try your best Comrade Flower Crown!"

"Hey Dyatlov! Sing for your bride!"

"Yea! Sing!"

_Oh no! Not that!_ she thought. "Keep it clean Anatoly, there's children present!" she shouted.

She heard him laugh, then break into song as he attempted to draw nearer to her.

"The captain's name was Lugger.

By Christ he was a… _devil._

He wasn't fit

To shovel… _IT_

From one ship to another."

This was followed by a load of booing and shouting!

"Not acceptable!"

"Come on, you can do better than that!"

"Sing!"

Dyatlov glared daggers at them all. He just wanted to claim his lover and whisk her off to make her his own, without all this _nonsense!_

_Right!_ he thought, as a song flicked into his mind. One he'd always pictured singing to her, but never had the courage to before. He drew himself up to his full height and sang!

"You're just too good to be true!

Can't take my eyes off of you.

You'd be like heaven to touch.

I want to hold you so much.

At long last love has arrived.

And I thank God I'm alive.

You're just too good to be true.

Can't take my eyes off of you!"

She gasped. Holding her hands in front of her face as he sang, mesmerised by his beauty, by the words he crooned to her. The quietened crowd parted, hypnotised by this sight. The strange soft sight of the fierce, angry woodpecker singing so beautifully of his love.

He finished the verse and the chorus got picked up by the surrounding crowd. All joining in with him as he stopped in front of her. 

"I love you baby and if it's quite all right.

I need you baby to warm the lonely nights.

I love you baby, trust in me when I say!

Oh pretty baby, don't bring me down I pray.

Oh pretty baby, now that I've found you stay.

And let me love you baby, let me love you!"

As he finished, he was surrounded by loud shouting, cheers, pats on the back, cries of:

"Bloody amazing!"

"So romantic!"

"Utterly sickening!"

He had a crate of beer that he handed out to bribe her brothers, and a bottle of champagne for her ever-scowling father. Her father peered at the champagne bottle label, then nodded a begrudging approval.

Anatoly grabbed her hand and rushed her through the crowd before her father could change his mind. He paused outside the taxi to take in her beauty. She was wearing a flower crown, fashioned from the roses that they'd picked last night, her hair loosely flowing around her, no veil impeding it. Her white, wedding dress was long and figure hugging.

"You look beautiful," he placed a kiss on the apple of her blushing cheek, then leaned in towards her, brushing the delicate shell of her ear with his moustache, causing her to blush and giggle. "You'll look even more beautiful, naked, in bed later on," he whispered, causing her to blush an even brighter shade of scarlet. 

"Have you already been drinking?" she asked, smelling the vodka on his breath.

"Don't worry love, just the smallest bit of dutch courage! A glass or three. Four at the very most," he laughed at her rolled eyes.

"Don't worry, I stuck to vodka, no homebrew!" 

Her giggles and head shaking caused him to chuckle. 

"Come on you pair of lovebirds, save that for later, or we'll never be done!" Anya, Roza's witness, appeared by their side, kissing Roza a hello. She opened the taxi door and shoved them both inside.

"Come on! I've developed a severe thirst! I want to see what drink Bryukhanov bought, I overheard that he's got some _good_ vodka laid on! If we mix it with the bloody awful stuff that Akimov brews, then I'm sure it'll even out into something that won't strip the lining away from your throat!" Sitnikov laughed.

"Oh! That stuff made my eyes water even _before_ I drank it!" Anya chipped in, scrunching her nose up at the remembrance of the awful homebrew as she settled into the taxi, slammed the door and ordered the driver to 'get a bloody move on, please!'.

The two women leant in to each other, whispering away on the back seat of the taxi. Sitnikov turned in the front passenger seat and raised an eyebrow at Dyatlov, who shrugged back at him. 

Dyatlov's ears went red as he caught snippets of their conversation, as Roza and Anya were giggling and whispering away next to him.

"…seemed much more bristly… soft lips though… _impressive_ … oh…! so very _tickly!_... the thing he does with his… he does that too…? yes, but with his _tongue_ … ohhhh!…"

Sitnikov grinned at him. "What's that all about?" he pointed a thumb at the other two.

" _Nothing…!_ It was a _complete_ misunderstanding, nothing to let anyone else know about!" he stared pointedly at the two cackling women and Sitnikov who were all having far too much fun at his expense.

"It wasn't even my fault! I was _dragged_ into that cleaning cupboard _deliberately!_ And it's definitely not my fault that you didn't check who I was _before_ you started kissing me, woman!" he aimed the last sentence at Anya.

"Dragged into a _cupboard_ …? _Kissing_ …?" Sitnikov's eyes lit up brightly at the information that Dyatlov had just let slip.

_Shit!_ thought Dyatlov. _I'll not hear the fucking end of this all night now!_

More giggles.

Dyatlov tutted.

"You sly dog old Dyatlov! I'll have to keep my wife away from you and any cleaning cupboards!" Sitnikov laughed.

Dyatlov squinted his eyes at all of them. Which was met by more laughter. He rolled his eyes and tutted, then laughed himself.

"I'm getting a bloody _lock_ put on that fucking cleaning cupboard door, and I'll be the _only_ fucker with the fucking _key!_ " he laughed.

More laughter from all of them.

-

Outside the ZAGS office, Boris Stolyarchuk and Sitnikov's family were waiting for them. They hang around for Roza's family to arrive. Then headed inside as a group.

-

The registrar stood before them. “A registration of marriage is to be performed according to the laws of the R.S.F.S.R. We are about to register the marriage of Rozaliya Lebed and Anatoly Stepanovich Dyatlov. Dear friends, this is a solemn day in your lives. You are entering matrimony. I wish you happiness and a long life. And may your love endure.”

The registrar concluded: “Please step forward and sign the registry book.”

While the couple signed, followed by the two witnesses, one for the bride, one for the groom, cheesy canned music played. The signing completed, the newlyweds and their witnesses withdrew to their positions in the center of the room. The registrar's deputies walked over and handed the couple the wedding certificate and proffered two gold rings on a small silver platter. With trembling hands Roza took one ring and proceeded to place it on Anatoly's right fourth finger. He then placed the other ring on her corresponding finger.

This done, the registrar again rose and counseled the couple: “Congratulate each other with more warmth. You are now man and wife!”

That was the cue for the bride and groom to kiss. After a hurried kiss, the registrar invited the family and friends to congratulate the pair before they were quickly ushered out. The next couple was already poised, waiting outside as they filed out of the ceremony room.

They headed out, with a quick stop for Boris to take a photo of them in front of a bust of Lenin, before the newlyweds ran outside. 

Husband and wife!

They all walked off towards the booked hall. More photos were taken outside, with them stopping to pose at the rose bushes along the way. 

-

The inside of the hall was bedecked with beautiful roses, laid on every table inside and streaming across the walls and ceiling. 

"For the newlyweds! Gorko!" came the shout to toast them from Bryukhanov.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Roza's father huffed and everyone else laughed, there were several wolf whistles and shouts as Anatoly pulled Roza in for a beautiful, deep kiss that lasted longer than it should have done.

"You can stop kissing now!"

"We know that the longer the kiss the better, but that's just taking the piss!"

Bryukhanov banged on the table. "Ok, Dyatlov! Save it for later!" 

Dyatlov pulled away from his lovely wife and laughed.

"Do you have some words you'd like to say, Comrade Dyatlov?"

“Oh! Yes!" he nodded to Bryukhanov and took the hands of his lovely wife in his, then turned to look at her. "Rozaliya Dyatlova, I absolutely adore and love you, you’ve shown me how to live my life again, how to love again. Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be in love with you, and to have you love me back? I want a lifetime of long hugs and slow kisses with you,” he smiled down at her, kissing her knuckles.

"Nooo! Not more kisses!"

"Yea, you've done enough kissing, already!"

Bryukhanov banged on the table. 

"Quiet please! Miss Lebed, sorry, Comrade Dylatova," Bryukhanov gestured to her to say some words.

"Thank you. I know that good men still exist, you are proof of that, Anatoly. You are different from other men. With you I've found desires I never knew I had." 

This was met with jeers, laughter and shouts of:

"Yea! We could see from that kiss about the _desires_ you've found!"

"Shut up you bastards! Can't you see my _wife_ is trying to speak!" Anatoly answered. "Or shall I show you again how a husband should kiss his wife?" he threatened.

"Speech! Speech!"

"No more kissing or my wife will be wanting similar! Ow!! What was that for, woman?" 

This was met with more laughter.

Anatoly squeezed his wife's hand, nodding at her to continue.

"When you look at me I feel like you know my very thoughts. When you touch me, I know that I'll gladly give you everything." 

More jeering and wolf whistling.

"Anatoly Stepanovich Dyatlov. There isn't any person in the world that I want more than I want you."

Cheers and clapping. 

"Can we eat now?"

"Yea! I'm starving! What? Ow! Hey, such a mean wife!" 

More laughter.

A band played as they ate. Then the tables were moved aside to form a dance floor in the middle. Anatoly stood, holding his hand out for her.

She gulped down her glass of wine, finishing off the full glass in one go. This was the part she was dreading out of the whole day. The First Dance together. She placed her shaking hand in his, feeling him give it a tight squeeze. 

"Don't worry, just remember how we practiced," he whispered in her ear, "just look at me, keep your eyes on mine, let me lead, you'll do brilliantly." He leaned down and kissed her knuckles, then nodded over at the band. The music started and he held her close, leading her around the floor in a waltz. 

He'd taught her the basics in the apartment last week, enough to get her through tonight. She followed where he led. Moving around with him, turning when he turned, spinning when he spun her, moving her feet with his in time to the music. She looked into his beautiful blue eyes, noting how they danced with pride and joy, how they twinkled in the light of the room as they looked directly into hers. He smiled down at her, his grin growing wider as he spun her around the dancefloor faster. Spinning her away from him, then pulling her back. Her hands landed on his chest and the room exploded in applause.

"You did beautifully! Come, my lovely wife, another turn around the dancefloor, then…"

"Then what, husband?" she asked, smiling up at his wicked grin. "What are you up to?"

He laughed and pulled her into him for another dance as the band started up again. This time they had to dance around all the other couples that filled the dance floor. He spun and whirled her around until they were at the edge of the dance floor, next to the doors leading out to the exit and toilets. He grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the doors, pulling her along the corridor, past the toilets and into a cupboard. He closed the door behind them and pinned her against the door, leaning down to capture her lips with his, greedily kissing her, deeply devouring her lips with his. 

"Anatoly…?"

"Shhh love," he kissed along her jawline, sucking at her neck, causing her to moan his name. "I want you now! I can't wait 'till later," he chuckled against her neck, "I may not last until tonight, the way I'm being plied with drink, so I'm going to have you now, wife. I'm going to make love to you, here, our first time as husband and wife will be in a cleaning cupboard, just like our first kiss!"

She giggled. "Oh… how did you know that this place would be here?"

"Insider information," he sucked her neck, causing her to whine, "your friend Anya told me about it. Her and Stolyarchuk found it when they were looking for suitable venues!" he chuckled. "Here, love," he pulled a condom out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Can't have any sticky messes, giving us away, so one of these for now."

"Oh, you think of everything! Such a devious husband!" 

"I try my best, love, with everything," he chuckled.

He bunched up her dress and hitched her legs up around his waist. He ran a hand along her thigh, finding… her!

"Mmmm… No underwear! Such a naughty, _devious_ wife!" he dove his fingers into her, feeling how wet she already was for him. Loving how she moaned and bucked against him as he rubbed at her, bringing her to a quick, leg shaking peak. He undid his trousers, rolling the condom onto himself as fast as he could, then he pushed straight into her, wanting to feel her spasm around him. He moaned into her shoulder, grabbing at her thighs, pulling her legs up, opening her wider, pushing himself inside her as far as he could. It didn't take him long, half a dozen frenzied thrusts into her tight warmness before he growled her name into her neck.

He dropped her wobbly legs down and removed the condom before he made a mess of his suit and her dress. Wrapping it up in a handkerchief that he produced from his pocket, he then shoved it all back into the same pocket. He reached down and kissed her, reaching around her and opening the door. 

"Oh… hang on my love, you're a little wonky," he reached up and straightened her rose crown as they stood, facing each other, in the corridor. He placed a quick kiss on her lips. "I'll meet you back inside, I just have to er…" he patted his pocket and pointed towards the toilets.

She headed back into the hall, pausing in the doorway, looking around, not quite knowing what to do. Anya headed over to her, dragging Boris along behind her.

"I take it that the cupboard is free now?" she whispered.

"Oh… yes! All yours," she smiled.

"Dyatlov…?"

"He's in the toilet, don't worry," she laughed.

They headed out. Leaving her stood there again. Her parents were sitting at the side, her father primly drinking some tea, her mother tucking into some finger food that had been placed out on the side. Her two brothers were over by the drinks table, she squinted her eyes. _They're up to something no doubt_ , she thought as she watched them fiddle with some bottles in crates. She scanned the room, unsure of what to do. She spotted Anatoly Sitnikov, he waved at her, so she smiled back at him and headed over. He had his arm around his wife and was laughing with Valery Perevozchenko and his girlfriend. 

"Sooooo Roza. Care to elaborate about that cleaning cupboard then?"

"Um…" she paused, giggling, "well… there's this cleaning cupboard in the corridor of the admin block and…"

"No she does not care to elaborate about that _cupboard_ Perevozchenko!" Anatoly Dyatlov kissed his wife on her cheek and handed her a glass of… something?

"What's this?" she asked, looking up at her husband as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side.

"I'm not entirely sure. Your brothers seem to be in charge of the drinks…" 

She sniffed it and scrunched her nose. The others laughed, watching her take a small sip of the purple liquid.

"Er… tastes a bit better than it smells," she watched as her husband downed his. She poured her drink into his empty glass. 

He laughed and kissed her cheek, his had already started to become decidedly rosy… She watched as he downed his refilled glass then accepted another that Sitnikov handed him, swapping their glasses. That got downed too. Perevozchenko returned from his sortie to the drinks table with two more bottles. Refilling everyone's glasses.

"Soooo…" Sitnikov said "this cleaning cupboard…?"

Anatoly downed another glass of whatever the drink was. 

"Blame this one here!" he pointed at his wife who he was leaning into. "She… acco… accous…. grabbed me! Dragging me in… _kissing_ me!" he smiled down at her. "It was a very lovely kiss though, my love," he leant down, aiming for maybe her lips or cheek, but catching half of both with a wobbly kiss. "Although we've done more than _kiss_ in there since then…" he snickered.

"Hey! Waaaay too much information!" Sitnikov protested.

"Well, you did ask," Perevozchenko shrugged, laughing.

"You won't want to know about what we got up to in my office then, sorry _your_ office now," Dyatlov laughed at Sitnikov's scrunched up face. "I'll miss that chair…" he sighed, "…and that desk… ohhhh that desk…!" he grinned wickedly.

"Ugh… I'm going to have to bleach that desk now!" Sitnikov shook his head, frowning.

"Don't worry, love, we'll just have to re-christen it ourselves," his wife said. Which was met by cheers and another round of drinks.

"So, what have I missed?" Anya elbowed Dyatlov in the side, causing him to exclaim an 'oof!' and spill some drink, as she and Boris joined the group.

"Sitnikov here was asking about the cleaning cupboard," Roza peered around Dyatlov, to answer Anya's query. He was frowning, rubbing his side.

"Stolyarchuk! Your woman has very pointy thingies… bendy arm bits… elbows!" Dyatlov announced.

"Oh… poor dear. I'll kiss you better later!" This was met with laughter from all of them except Dyatlov who coughed out his drink and glared at her. "Ha! The cleaning cupboard! I mean, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time… I never would have kissed him…" Anya shrugged.

"Wait! What?"

" _Kissed_ him…?"

"I thought he was Boris! I mean you men and your moustaches… far too similar!" she waved her hand at them. "Although I must say, Boris's isn't as bristly as Dyatlov's," she smiled at Dyatlov's frowning, red face as everyone laughed. "Here, have another drink," she refilled Dyatlov's empty glass. 

"Is it really… you know… _bristly_ …?" he peered down his nose, wiggling his moustache.

"Yes!" Roza and Anya both exclaimed together.

"Oh!" he frowned down at Roza, "do I need to shave it off then?" his face fell.

"No love! Your moustache has its uses!" she smiled up at him, patting his cheek.

"Uses…?" he frowned.

She smirked up at him.

"Ohhhh…!" he grinned down at her, wiggling his top lip. 

This was met with lots of giggling and cackling.

"Does that mean that I need to grow a moustache?" Perevozchenko asked, peering down at his giggling girlfriend.

"No, no… I think you're doing just fine without, that's what fingers are for," she said, pulling him down for a kiss. 

"Oh, maybe you _should_ grow a moustache though, I've certainly not had any complaints!" Sitnikov chimed in, winking down at his wife.

"It is a very _impressive_ moustache!" Anya said.

"Hey! Better than mine?" Boris asked.

"No, love. Yours is just fine. Honestly! You men and your delicate egos!" she rolled her eyes. "Here have some more of whatever this is," she refilled all the held out glasses, placing the empty bottle of homebrew on a nearby table. Turning to grab a bottle as one of Roza's brothers wandered past with an armful of full ones.

"Ohhh! I told you Bryukhanov bought some good stuff!" Sitnikov grabbed another two bottles from the other brother. "Ah!" he downed a glass. "Much better! Hey Akimov!" he shouted out. 

"What?" the shouted reply.

"You can keep your homebrew! This is _much_ better!" 

"Yea, yea! I didn't hear you complaining earlier!" he came over towards the group. "And by the end of this party, I can _guarantee_ it'll all be drunk!" he smiled proudly. 

They laughed at the truth of that statement.

"I didn't think it was _that_ bad!" Dyatlov said, swaying slightly, Roza having to prop him up and move his roving hand from her bottom to her waist. A losing battle though, as soon as she moved it up, he'd slip it down again. He grinned a glassy eyed grin down at her, dropping his hand down and watching her as he squeezed her bum, causing her to squeak, which in turn caused him to giggle. "You've done me a big, big favour!" he motioned towards Akimov, spilling some of the mix of homebrew and vodka that was in the glass clutched in his hand. "Money saved and all that! Give this man a prom… prem… oting… _Raise!_ " he lifted his glass up in a toast. "To Akimov's homebrew!" he shouted.

It was answered by a chorus of rowdy cheers.

"Oh, don't worry. I've got a whole 'nother garage full on the go!" 

By the time the three vodka bottles had been emptied, they were all noticeably swaying, Dyatlov more markedly so than the others. The group had moved, to sit at a table. He'd grabbed Roza, making her sit on his lap instead of a chair, wrapping his arms around her, nestling his face into her neck. The people around them swirled and changed, different people sitting and talking to them, but they were a constant. Sitting close together, wrapped around each other, eyes only for themselves. He'd taken to singing to her, singing the music that the band was playing.

"I love you baby," he whispered to her, rubbing his nose into her neck as the band played and she ran her hands through his long hair.

"…and if it's quite alright, I need you baby," he sang into her neck.

  
  


"…to warm the lonely nights! I love you baby," his voice getting louder as he pulled his face away.

"…trust in me when I say," he stood up causing her to fall from her perch of his lap. He took her hands in his, staring down at her.

"Oh pretty baby, don't bring me down I pray!"

A crowd had gathered around them now as he pulled her into him and crooned at her, smiling as she blushed up at him prettily.

"Oh pretty baby, now that I've found you stay,"

The crowd joined in now. She was serenaded by them all, but her eyes were pinned on him alone.

"…And let me love you baby, let me love you!"

She pulled him in for a kiss, smothering the rest of his words as the rest of the song was sung around them. He pulled away and spun her round the dancefloor to the sound of loud singing accompanying the band.

-

It's their _almost_ first time together as a married couple, and the _almost_ first time making love in just over two weeks.

They'd snuck away, leaving the party to come to its own drunken conclusion. He hailed a passing taxi as they walked back, the clear night air acting to sober them both somewhat.

They fell upon each other upon returning to their apartment.

He can't hold back. He wanted her. He's too drunk, they both are, to take too much time over it.

Clothes get pulled off and haphazardly thrown onto the bedroom floor. The same floor he almost faceplanted as his trousers give him difficulty when he tried to pull his leg out. He growled at her giggling. His growling turned more heated, more primal as he watched her climb onto the bed. She's completely naked. Just the way he likes her best.

He followed her up onto the bed, crawling up her body, nestling himself in between her legs, moving up, moving over her.

She wrapped her legs around him, wrapped her arms around him, and brought him swiftly inside her. Just where she loved feeling him.

He closed his eyes as he buried himself as deep as he could inside her, holding himself there, growling into her neck as she moved her hips, bucking up, wanting him to move, needing some friction. He opened them, his eyes staring down at her and kissed her as he flexed his hips, smoothly moving himself in and out and back in again, snapping his hips against hers, pushing her into and up the bed.

She moved her arms from him, placing them above her, bracing them against the wall above her head so that she could push back against him as he pounded roughly into her. 

He lifted her legs up and over his shoulders, opening her up even more. She moaned, as his action meant that he's rubbing against her, just so, just enough to make her peak, make her scream his name out. Her delicious exclaiming of his name and her pulsing around him sped his thrusts, he grunted into her, his movements becoming erratic, he roared her name as he came, pushing his seed deep into her. He stilled. Looking down at her disheveled state, smiling at her flushed face and neck, loving that he'd caused both.

He rolled off her, pulling her in towards him, holding her close, just managing a kiss, before he fell fast asleep.

"Husband," she whispered, running a finger along his lips, along his jawline, down his nose, up his cheekbones. Any and every part of his beautiful face that she could touch, she did. She choked back a sob, swiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "I love you, Anatoly," she whispered, placing a kiss on his lips.

"Mmm… I love you too, wife," he pulled her closer into him. His eyes remained closed, but his face was smiling, a content look gracing it. 

She stayed awake for a while, watching him sleep, petting his face, running her fingers through his chest hair, smoothing the beautiful long hair on his head back in place. Taking his large hand, with his beautiful, expressive fingers into her hands. She touched his wedding ring. Her tears returned. Tears of joy, of happiness, of love, delighted that he was present here with her right now. Tears to celebrate her past, her great good fortune at plucking up the courage to drag him into that cleaning cupboard. Tears to hope for a better time as they looked towards their future together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Dyatlov sings is of course: Can't take my eyes off you - by Frankie Valli and the four seasons.


	23. Annulment or Restoration?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long line of sinister, black cars pulled up outside the power plant admin block at nine am sharp.

"Are they all still in there?" Roza whispered as she crept up to Anya's desk.

"Yes. They paused around two for a break, just after you were here the last time, asking for tea to be sent in. Bryukhanov popped out half an hour ago, with a long list of paperwork I've to bring in as soon as possible, but other than that… I've not heard a peep! Here, you can go and make copies of this for me. Ten copies please. I've got to sort all this _mess_ out!" She threw her hands up in the air. 

Roza stared, wide eyed, at all the paperwork. Anya's desk and part of the floor were smothered in printouts, plans and various other pieces of information which probably made sense to someone other than herself. The only thing she recognised was Anatoly's handwriting on the front of a big red folder that sat, half hidden under more paperwork, on the desk.

Roza nodded as she accepted the paperwork held out towards her, and headed out to the Xerox machine that sat in the corridor, just outside the office.

Boris Stolyarchuk waved at her, noticing her as he walked along the corridor towards Anya's office. He approached her as she stood, waiting for the machine to finish. 

"Any news?" he asked. "We all saw the black cars arrive this morning… and saw Dyatlov and Sitnikov get called away from the control rooms just shortly after. I've just finished my shift, so I thought I'd come over and check in on Anya. To see if there's any insider information…?"

"There's nothing yet," she answered. "Both Anatoly's and Bryukhanov are still stuck in the meeting room with all the party officials… and some horrid KGB man," she whispered the last part. Two dark suited men stood not too far away, lounging in the corridor, outside the meeting room. They were peering towards them as they talked. "Why don't you go through, Anya's got a whole mess of paperwork to sort out. It's a complete nightmare and another pair of hands will definitely help," she smiled up at him as the machine whirred and clunked in front of her.

-

The large meeting room emptied just after eight. Roza watched as the party officials and a gruff looking man in a black suit left. All were followed by the two guards. She stood frozen as her Anatoly, Bryukhanov and Sitnikov went with them, escorting the men as they filed out, walking down the corridor, heading towards their cars. She breathed out a sigh of relief as the three Chernobyl men stopped at the entrance, not following the others into the dark, foreboding cars.

Her husband turned, walking back towards her, his face and strides determined. She held her arms out to him as he neared her, pulling him in for a hug. A hug that was cut short.

"You two. My office. Now!" Bryukhanov barked. All three men filed into his large office, leaving the two women and Boris Stolyarchuk staring after a slammed door, then turning to stare at each other.

"Um…"

"Not good…"

"Come on," Anya announced, knowing that it was pointless speculating on what was going on and to keep busy would help while they waited. Again. "You two can help me tidy all this away," she pointed at the scattered, disheveled heaps of paperwork littering the office. 

The three of them, Anya, Boris and Roza, worked and waited in Anya's office. Looking at each other and frowning as loud shouting came from within Bryukhanov's office. Roza paused, looking up as she recognised her Anatoly's raised voice, she grimaced as a lengthy string of curses spewed forth from the other side of the door.

Two hours later the three men filed out of Bryukhanov's office. All of their faces were haggard looking, drawn out, tired and angry. 

Dyatlov stalked over to Roza, grabbed her hand and his briefcase and dragged both out.

"Oh… wait!" she pulled free of his grasp and ran back, collecting her coat and handbag, waving at the others, then ran after her husband. He had not stopped to wait for her, but had strode onwards, his swift, long strides sped him away, sending him towards and out of the exit.

"Anatoly! _Wait!_ "

He stopped and turned. She watched as his face changed when he saw her. Transforming from a creased up angry grimace, to a loving smile. "Sorry, love," he apologised, holding his hand out for her. "My mind is thousands of miles away!"

"So…?" she asked him as he once again strode along the path, heading them back away from the anger of today, and back towards the calmness of their apartment.

He sighed. "Well… we can forget about _anything_ for the time being! Those good for nothing fucking fuckers have fucking fucked all our plans up! _Fuckers!_ " he viciously kicked at a stone on the path. Sending it scooting off, running away in front of him. He gave it another good hoofing as they came upon it again.

Roza kept silent. Patiently waiting for him to reveal all, not wanting to push him for what he meant. His temper was only slowly cooling down from the roiling, boiling point it was at just earlier. Even though the 'not knowing' was gnawing and clawing away at her, turning her insides to jelly. His anger was gradually subsiding. The further they got from work, the more it lessened. Replaced by something else. A calmness, showing as a slowing of his lengthy strides and a loosening of the deathly grip he had on her hand.

"They're coming back for round two tomorrow! So, I'll need to go in early. There's a fuckload of more paperwork that they're wanting," he finally said. 

His keen mind was already organising and planning ahead for tomorrow, even though she could see the tiredness in his red rimmed eyes.

"I'll come in with you then. To help. Many hands make light work, after all. And this time I'll make sure to send you in with food, even if I have to stuff your pockets with sandwiches or dumplings! You've not eaten anything all day!" she offered.

He laughed. "Thanks, love. Your help tomorrow will be very much appreciated, as it was today," he lifted their clasped hands up, placing a kiss upon hers.

"There's not really much I can tell you yet, other than all plans for everything have been put on hold 'till these fuckers have finished here!"

"Do you know them? Who they are, I mean?" she asked.

"Yes. Regional party head, plus the next lot above him, and the next one above him, plus the minister for energy. Can't get any higher unless Gorbachev was here himself!" His voice lowered as his brows furrowed again, his eyes flashed and he showed his teeth in the furthest thing from a smile as anything could be. "And I've met the fucker in the black suit before!"

"The KGB man?" she whispered.

"Yes. In Leningrad. He's the chief fucker of the whole fucking lot!" he spat, his anger returned.

"Oh!" she stopped still, her hand went up to his face. "The one who…?"

"Yes. That fucker! Although he just likes to sit and listen. Letting others do all of the dirty work for him!"

She frowned as they moved along the path again. 

"Be careful Anatoly," she whispered.

"I will love, don't worry," he kissed her knuckles again, his face softened at her show of worry for him. He still wasn't used to how much she cared for him. It still amazed and flummoxed him in equal measures.

"I thought they'd made a deal with you though? Back there?" she asked.

"Yes, well. It wouldn't be the first time they've fucked things up and changed their fucking minds now, would it?" he sighed. "Hopefully I'll know more tomorrow," he said as they ascended the stairs to their apartment.

He dropped his briefcase onto the floor and threw himself onto the sofa, dropping his head back, stretching his arms out to the sides and his legs out in front of him. He closed his eyes, the final vestiges of his anger melting as he listened to the soothing domestic sounds of his Roza in the kitchen. The cupboards opening and closing, the whistle of the kettle, rustling of packets and the fridge being rummaged in.

He opened his eyes again and lifted his head up as he heard her footfalls nearing him. Smiling at her as she sat next to him with a tray laden with mugs of tea and piled high with sandwiches, fruit, bread and biscuits. 

"It's so late already love, so just some cold things to keep your strength up!" she announced, placing the tray on the table and handing him a plate as she snuggled up to his side, his arm automatically wrapping around her.

"Thanks love," he placed a kiss on her cheek and tucked in. "I'm absolutely ravenous!" he mumbled, as he chewed a mouthful of food. 

They ate, drank, showered and fell into bed together, tiredness and worry finally overcoming them both. He pulled her close into him, nestling into her, breathing her in, releasing a deep sigh as he finally relaxed.

"Whatever they decide, we'll face it together this time," she said.

"Mmmm… sleep love… m'tired…" he mumbled into her neck.

-

She took the beautiful, red sunrise that greeted them on their walk to work as a good portent for the day. Pointing this lucky omen out to a distracted Anatoly on their walk to work. She tried her best to distract him as they walked, watching as his face fell and his brows furrowed further and further together as they got closer and closer to the power plant. He answered her chattering with monosyllabic replies, but even those stopped, changing to incoherent grunts as they drew near.

-

They all reconvened in Bryukhanov's office. Her and Anya were photocopying, sorting and collating while Boris and the two Anatolys fetched the required printouts, manuals and paperwork from the control rooms. Meanwhile, Bryukhanov panicked and flapped around them. Until Anya shouted at him to 'please could you _not!_ ' and politely asked if he could set the meeting room up, thrusting the key in his hand and giving him a list of catering items to be placed in there for today. 

"I won't have us be accused of killing high ranking party members and KGB by way of thirst or starvation!" she announced.

Bryukhanov gladly sped away, happy to be doing something, even if it was below what he'd usually be willing to do at his lofty rank.

-

The long line of ominous, black cars pulled up outside the power plant admin block at nine am sharp. Bryukhanov, Sitnikov and Dyatlov were waiting for them this time, to escort them into the meeting room. 

It was a repeat of yesterday. Except that the officials left just after six this time. The group of Comrades watched the dark, midnight cars pull away and speed off. Breathing a collective sigh of relief as they disappeared away into the distance.

Bryukhanov called his two deputies back into his office while Anya bossed Roza and Boris around, getting the meeting room and her office back to how they should be.

"I think I should have stayed in the control room instead of finishing early to help out!" he whispered to Roza.

"Would you prefer to be shouted at by her or by Anatoly?" she whispered back.

"Oh! _Definitely_ Dyatlov!" 

"I heard that!" Anya shouted over. 

This was met by giggles from the two conspirators and a huff from Anya.

They stilled as the three men exited Bryukhanov's office. Bryukhanov tiredly waved them goodbye, leaving them to it. 

"Well… I guess I'll see you tomorrow then boss!" Sitnikov slapped Dyatlov on the back before he too left.

"Boss?" Boris asked, speaking aloud what the other two were thinking.

"Yes. It seems that the fuckers in charge have decided that I'm to be Fomin's replacement here. I'm to oversee the modification process on site here instead of from afar in Moscow. Here being the test site. That way if the shit hits the proverbial, then I'm in the direct fucking firing line. _Literally,_ knowing those fucking fucks!"

"Oh!" Roza gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

"Here," Anya rummaged in her desk drawer, "you'll need this!" she threw a key over to him which he caught mid air. "The key to your new domain. Congratulations! I'd get it fumigated first though, if I were you," she laughed. She then shooed them all out of her office, locking up before her and Boris waved them goodbye for the night too. 

Now it was just the two of them, Roza and Anatoly, left standing in an empty, quiet corridor. They stared down at the key in his shaking hand. Then slowly they both looked up, smiling at each other. He grabbed her hand and dragged her down the corridor, stopping at another office, situated between Bryukhanov and Anatoly's old one. He unlocked it, stepping into a smaller version of Bryukhanov's lair. A small outer office with a desk and a dirty, dusty typewriter abandoned upon it. Three chairs were lined up opposite for people to wait at. Several filing cabinets lined the wall behind the desk. Anatoly walked over to the desk, opening the drawer and extracting another key. This one undid the door to the main office. Again, it was a smaller version of Bryukhanov's one. A large, dark desk lurked in front of him, a plain, whitewashed wall was behind it. No mural. Just a photo of Lenin and a loudly ticking clock, the wrong time showing upon it. Two chairs sat in front of the desk and one behind it. Large neglected, wooden, glass fronted cabinets sat against the wall facing the desk. Mostly empty, all covered in a filthy film of dust. 

Anatoly stalked towards the desk, going around it and sitting at the chair. He checked the drawers.

"Empty?" she asked.

"Yes, all empty. I was expecting weird black rubber masks and whips or nudey magazines but with babushkas…" he laughed at Roza's scrunched up face.

He stilled, staring at her, she raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled, motioning her over, holding his arms out wide to her. She sat on his lap, echoing how they usually sat in his old office. He dropped his face into her neck, snuggling into her, tightening his arms around her. He looked up. Noticing how the light from the window to his left shone upon them. Casting them both in a golden glow.

_See! Look! You followed the light and now you are here! Where you always wanted to be! Live! Love! Do not fear any more!_

He sucked in a breath.

"What's wrong love?" she asked him.

"Nothing love, nothing at all. I'm where I always wanted to be. And more!" he laughed.

"More?"

"Yes! I'm here with you!" his words hitched, sticking in his throat as his eyes welled up, choking down a sob.

"Oh, love!" she held his smiling face in hers, her thumbs swiped at his tears. She leant down and kissed him. Kissing his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his eyes. Finally kissing his lips. Feeling his fingers dig into her as their kiss deepened.

He pulled away, breaking their kiss. Sighing as he snuffled his face back into her. Breathing her in, resting, just wanting to be with her, near her in this moment of stark realisation.

She felt him shake. 

"Anatoly? What's wrong, don't cry, I'm here, love," she stroked his beautiful head, trying to comfort him, but paused, her hand in place as she realised that he was actually laughing and not crying. "Love?" she asked, her brows furrowed as he lifted his head up. 

He shook his head as he laughed. A look of joy mixed with surprised realisation lit upon his face.

"I just remembered! How at the beginning of all this, how Fomin tempted me. He thought that a successful completion of that _wretched_ test would mean Bryukhanov getting promoted out of here and that he would take Bryukhanov's place. He threw the _possibility_ of me taking his place as an incentive for me to agree to go ahead with everything. Threatening to promote Sitnikov over me! Forcing me into begging him to consider me instead! _Ha!_ Now look!" he laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all. Of how choices taken or not could affect so many things, so many lives!

"Come on, let's go home. Anya was right," he ran a finger through the disgusting layer of dust on the desk's surface. "This fucking place needs a thorough deep clean! If we stay here too long, we might fucking catch something horrendous!" he scrunched his face up.

She stood, laughing as he looked around for something to wipe his finger on. She dug in her bag, pulling out a tissue. "Here, love." 

-

He sighed into her neck, pulling her close into him. They'd made love already, as soon as they had returned to their apartment, then ate, showered and climbed into bed together. Now he felt re-invigorated, wanting to take his lovely wife again. To bury himself in her, to hear her moan and scream his name aloud. 

He kissed her, moving his lips along her jaw, down her neck as his fingers descended, pausing to squeeze one of her delicious breasts, to pinch her nipple until it pebbled.

"Mmmm…" she moaned.

His fingers moved again, skimming over her body, going lower, passing over her tummy, moving lower still, pushing between her thighs, feeling her open her legs for him. His wicked fingers had found her. _Oh! So wet! So beautiful! How lucky I am!_ he congratulated himself. Reaching over to kiss her properly, dancing his tongue with hers, as his fingers danced inside her and over her, moving in and out and twirling and swirling around that spot, that special place that made her scream for him so beautifully.

"Roza," he whispered to her, brushing his bristly mustache along her ear, "Roza, come for me, I want to hear you call my name out as you come, I want to hear you scream my name so loud that everyone in Pripyat knows that you are mine."

"Mmmm… faster… just there… yes… oh! don't stop… please don't stop… Annnnnatolyyyyy!"

"So beautiful… and all _mine!_ " he said as he pushed her onto her side, facing her away from him. Placing a hand low down on her tummy, pulling her bottom towards him, pushing himself into her warmth, moaning deeply as he felt the remnants of her orgasm pulsing around him. He growled as she pushed herself back into him, angling herself so that more of him could slip inside her. His hand slipped lower, rubbing her, bringing her to a peak again, the feeling as she did so, caused him to growl into her ear, his thrusts sped up, turning erratic, as his peak followed shortly after hers.

He rolled, lying on his back.

"Fuck…" he gasped as his breathing slowed down. 

Roza giggled as she rolled over, wobbling into the bathroom. Coming back and snuggling down into his outheld arms.

"Come here, love," he said as she settled herself against him, her fingers automatically threading themselves through his chest hair. "You're certain that you're alright with us staying here?" he turned his head, frowning over at her, stroking her cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yes! Of course! Wherever you go, I go. That will never change," she answered, smiling up at him. Catching his hand that had paused upon her face, placing a kiss on his palm.

He sighed happily as her hands engaged in his favourite of all of her ministrations upon him. Petting, kissing and stroking his face and head until he fell into a contented sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave any suggestions in the comments. I will try my bestestmost to incorporate any.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A New King](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29677440) by [NatashaRedFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatashaRedFox/pseuds/NatashaRedFox)




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